


Estranged

by SEMellark



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soul Mate Watches, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEMellark/pseuds/SEMellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were all brainwashed products of an unrealistic society, planning their lives around a dumb clock forever fused with their bodies; or it was until they found their “soul mate” anyway. Alfred knew better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Love was stupid. It was unrealistic, completely fake, and a total waste of time. 

People didn’t even get to choose who they fell in love with. Alfred had seen kids at his school talk shit on one another without having even seen the other person, but the moment their eyes met, and their clocks went off, they were completely smitten.

It was only the idea that they loved, that unworldly concept of a person the stars have destined them to be with. Alfred was certain someone could have their clock go off the moment they set eyes on a slice of pizza and accept the fact that their soul mate was a damn food. 

They were all brainwashed products of an unrealistic society, planning their lives around a dumb clock forever fused with their bodies; or it was until they found their “soul mate” anyway. Alfred knew better. 

He’d seen the videotape from when he was born. Personally, he wasn’t sure why his mom consented to have the entire thing filmed by her own mother, but Alfred has never really understood women anyway. He closed his eyes whenever he was forced to watch it, but there was a specific moment when everyone in the room grew quiet, the silence only broken by his infantile wailing.

They were all waiting for the announcement from the doctor, a middle-aged man who had probably delivered so many babies by that time that he was no longer moved as he wiped the grime off Alfred’s flailing arm. Alfred could relate to that doctor, though he did despise him for some reason, even if he didn’t know a thing about him. 

“Seventeen.” The doctor said at length, and the camera jolted slightly as Alfred’s grandmother nearly lost herself to the shock. “Seventeen years, twelve days, and twenty-eight minutes.”

Infant Alfred promptly pissed all over the front of the doctor’s scrubs while his mother burst into exhausted yet joyful tears, and it was definitely Alfred’s favorite part of the video.

See, every person was born with a clock that counted down to the day they met their soul mate or whatever, and Alfred was no exception; but Alfred’s case was considered a miracle of sorts. Some didn’t meet their destined (bleh) until later on in their lives, when they were settled into their respective jobs and life was stable. Apparently the universe understood when that time would be in each person’s life and introduced people accordingly. 

Alfred’s position was enviable, even when he was just a little kid. A lot of people would kill to meet their soul mates as soon as Alfred was supposedly going to meet his. Some had told him so before, and he always promptly responded with a, “Take my soul mate, I don’t want her. Or him, I’m not picky,” even though he really was picky. Girls were just... no. His parents always told him to be grateful, but he didn’t listen.

He hardly ever looked at his clock, and the quick glances stopped completely once he was twelve or so. He frankly didn’t give a shit about any of it, and if he could somehow get the timer removed, he would’ve done it years ago; but he let his friends fawn over him and ogle his wrist even if he was trying to do something completely unrelated, and he tried not to be too intense when asked of his feelings on the matter.

Ignoring it hardly made up for the fact that one of these days, Alfred was going to have to turn someone down when their timers went off in sync, but it made his life somewhat easier. He didn’t have to worry about any of it, really, and life was manageable.

But the universe – meddling prick that it was – decided that Alfred, who’d never suffered from an injury in his life, needed to throw out his shoulder while passing a football back and forth with his older brother in the backyard, sending him to a rehabilitation center and into the presence of someone he’d dreaded meeting all his life.

His brother Matthew drove him on that first day, ignoring Alfred’s comments about how stupid the whole thing was and leading the way into the building. He’d been wearing a wristband, his clock hidden from view completely. He didn’t make it a habit to check the numbers anyway, so Alfred hadn't even seen it coming. 

Matthew strode up to the front desk, gave the receptionist the necessary information regarding Alfred’s appointment, and the two brothers stood together awkwardly for a few minutes before they were approached from behind. “Matthew Williams.” Mattie said in that annoying tone that was supposed to make him seem more like an adult but Alfred just found excessive. It didn’t matter if his brother was nineteen. He still slept with stuffed animals, and Alfred would never let it go. “I’m Alfred’s older brother.”

“Arthur Kirkland.” Was the tired response, and Alfred only glanced up because he was momentarily startled by the man’s British inflection. “I’ll be Alfred’s – “

He only noted the strikingly green shade of the man’s eyes before a series of beeps sounded, and Matthew jumped back in apparent shock, eyes darting back and forth between his brother and the newcomer. Arthur was frozen in place, hand still extended in the handshake he’d been offering to Alfred, though the teenager wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

Everyone was staring at them, some smiling, others cheering a bit, and the rest going about their fucking business like decent human beings. Alfred reached up to pull his wrist band down just to make sure that Matthew’s clock hadn't been the one to go off – though that was impossible, since Matt’s wasn’t set to go off for another six years. 

Alfred scowled at his wrist. The numbers were gone like he’d always wanted them to be, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he’d hoped. He shoved the wrist band back into place, wincing a bit as he jostled his injured shoulder, turned around, and walked back out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but hey, it's an update! Let me just say that I feel really badly for Arthur. He certainly has his hands full.

Alfred sat in the car for a little over half an hour, listening to the radio with the volume turned up to an almost ear-splitting level, and by the time Matthew exited the building – thankfully without Arthur Kirkland – Alfred still hadn't come to terms with the fact that any of that had actually happened.

Matthew turned the radio off the moment he got into the car, and while he buckled himself in, he didn’t pull out of the parking lot. “Put the car in gear or I’ll do it for you, busted shoulder or not.” Alfred said scathingly, eyes darting back toward the rehabilitation center, somewhat worried that Arthur would come out after all. “Matt, what the hell are you doing?”

“You do realize what you just did, right?” Matthew said, turning his head to stare at Alfred incredulously. “What is wrong with you?”

“My shoulder hurts and I’m fucking tired, that’s what. Now drive!”

His parents weren’t happy. Matthew had always been King of the Narks and headed right for their dad’s study when they got home, and while Alfred hadn't expected him to keep quiet, he was still fairly annoyed.

“Alfred, what possessed you to _walk away_ from your soul mate?” His mom barked at him constantly while his dad and Matt stood at the sidelines. Even when Alfred was struggling to make a bowl of cereal with one arm, they kept their distance. “Your brother said he was a nice man!”

Alfred laughed humorlessly. “Tch, well, I guess my brother knows my supposed soul mate better than I do. I heard Matt say he was twenty-three or something. Aren’t you concerned? I’m only seventeen. Any relationship between us wouldn’t even be legal for another year.”

“Al, that’s not – “

“No way, you’re not even concerned at all! See, this is why I hate the whole clock thing. Everyone falls into the arms of whoever they’re looking at when the timer goes off without knowing a thing about them. Arthur could be a serial killer for all you know, and you wanted me to _swoon_ over him, are you serious?”

“Honey, are you concerned about the age difference between the two of you? Is that what this is about? Or is it because you’re both men?”

“Jesus Christ, Mom, _no! I_ don’t care about the age gap, but _you_ should, as my parents.”

“And it’s not about Arthur being a guy, Mom. Al couldn’t care less about that. You really should’ve seen his face when Arthur started talking. If the timers hadn’t gone off, Al would’ve jumped him right there.”

“Shut the fuck up, Matt!”

The next morning, Alfred was able to peel the clock from his skin, almost like a scab. The blue-eyed teenager was so relieved to be rid of the damn thing, but the skin beneath the clock was so much paler than the rest of his body, a glaringly obvious abnormality that would elicit congratulations from anyone who saw it before it tanned and faded away completely.

If he had his way, Alfred would have forgotten about the incident completely and moved on with his life – single, since the rest of the population believed in the timers and wouldn’t settle for love of their own choosing. He was completely fine with that, but then his mom announced that he would be going back to rehab whether he liked it or not, and Alfred realized it wasn’t going to be that easy.

No amount of protesting he did could deter her, and by lunchtime, he found himself face-to-face with the man he’d walked out on just the previous day. His mother apologized profusely on his behalf, which only served to frustrate Alfred and make Arthur uncomfortable.

“He’s been stressed out ever since he was injured.” She gushed, treating Arthur as if he were already her son-in-law. “Don’t take anything he says too seriously.”

“Mom, if you don’t leave _right now_ I’m gonna continue to be passive aggressive towards you for the rest of my life.”

Arthur didn’t seem to know what to do with him. Their sessions were quiet and tense, Alfred determined to do whatever he could to diminish what little interest the older man might have had in him. He refused to let Arthur touch him and only marginally followed his advice where his shoulder was concerned. The teenager hoped Arthur and the rest of the staff at the rehabilitation center would eventually just get so frustrated with his behavior that they would either reassign Alfred or tell him to never come back.

But it didn’t happen. No matter how hard Alfred pushed, Arthur didn’t rise to the challenge. He did become frustrated with Alfred’s behavior on numerous occasions, but he never brought up their situation and went out of his way to hide the lightened skin that had previously been covered by his clock. Alfred wasn’t sure if Arthur was just waiting for him to drop his guard or if he’d given up on the soul mate idea after spending an hour alone with Alfred. His uncertainty only encouraged him to continue being as difficult as possible.

His family didn’t understand. His friends didn’t understand. _No one_ seemed to grasp the concept that Alfred wasn’t going to allow his life to be determined by some stupid numbers and a series of beeps. He was seventeen, for fuck’s sake! He had mountains to climb, a world to discover, countless of mistakes to make; all that sentimental bullshit that came with adolescence.

Alfred refused to be tied down, least of all to some passive limey who couldn’t even tell when his presence wasn’t wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

As the days wore on – and despite Alfred’s attempts to do the exact opposite – he started noticing some things about Arthur Kirkland.

First, Arthur was terrible with people. Not that Alfred was some expert on human socialization, but Arthur’s interactions with Alfred’s parents were downright laughable. His mom dropped him off everyday, always making sure to pop in and at least say hello to Arthur before leaving again. Sometimes his dad would come along for the ride, though those times were few and far between, thank God.

All the blatant schmoozing got on Alfred’s nerves, and after a week or so of therapy, he’d had enough of staying quiet. “You know, if you told them to fuck off, I bet they’d leave you alone.” He’d said tonelessly as he watched his parents walk away. They meant well, but God, were they annoying.

Arthur had looked at him in surprise, any awkwardness left over from his interactions with Alfred’s parents melting away. It was the first time they’d talked about anything aside from building up the muscle in Alfred’s arm. “That would hardly be appropriate.”

Alfred shrugged. “Works when I do it.”

Second, Arthur had some shit going on in his personal life. Not that Alfred cared, but he’d sometimes notice how Arthur’s cell phone would vibrate multiple times throughout their sessions, and if Arthur continued to ignore the calls, one of his coworkers would interrupt them and tell Arthur that he had a phone call.

Alfred’s supposed soul mate would leave the foul-tempered teen in the care of another employee for a few brief moments before returning, seemingly more exhausted and stressed than he’d been beforehand. The more often it happened, the more aware Alfred became of the situation, and while he was curious, he refused to say anything. Asking questions might make him seem interested, and Alfred was anything but. He just had a very healthy sense of curiosity.

Lastly, Arthur was smart. Like, the kind of intelligence that Alfred tended to stay away from, if only because it was ten times harder for him to talk his way out of a situation.

Arthur knew exactly how to handle Alfred’s moods, could diffuse a situation before the boy’s anger could grow or even direct Alfred’s attention somewhere else with an ease only attained by practice. Sometimes Alfred wasn’t even aware of what had occurred until much later, and it was more than a little disconcerting.

Alfred sighed, trying nearly everything to forget about the sharp pain in his shoulder muscles as he continued with Arthur’s dumb fucking exercises. The teen was convinced that the older man picked the simplest, most boring exercises just to piss Alfred off. Perhaps he deserved it for being such a piss-ant, but weren’t professionals supposed to deal with bratty teenagers in ways that didn’t involve punishment?

“Keep circling your arm, Alfred.” Arthur said suddenly, though he wasn’t even looking at him when Alfred glanced his way. The trainer was alternating glances between his clipboard and his cell phone as he’d been doing the entire hour.

Alfred scowled, fidgeting in his chair momentarily before straightening out his back and continuing the motions. It was simple, really. All he had to do was extend his right arm and move it in a minute circular motion. It was boring as all sin. “I’m gonna totally question the professional here. How, exactly, is doing this over and over supposed to help?”

“You tore a few of your glenohumeral ligaments while you were playing football with your brother. Not to mention you kept playing even when you were uncomfortable. I’m surprised you didn’t completely displace your glenohumeral joint altogether.” Arthur said without looking up. “At this point in your recovery process, anything too strenuous could aggravate the ligaments again. We’ll be able to move on to more complicated exercises in a week or two.”

As if Alfred was retaining any of that medical bull-crap. He’d heard it all multiple times before, and he’d yet to make sense of any of it. All he knew was that he partially blamed Arthur for the random injury. It must have been some cosmic interference to push the two of them together. Alfred refused to believe he was retarded enough to throw out his shoulder just by passing a football back and forth.

“You mean _I’ll_ be able to move on to more complicated exercises.” Alfred replied. “I’m the one doin’ all the work here, you know.”

“Yes, you remind me constantly.” Arthur said with a slight sigh, shooting Alfred a sidelong glance. “Must you always be so confrontational?”

“Must you always point it out? Excuse me for running my mouth when I’m uncomfortable.”

Arthur blinked a few times, quirking one massive eyebrow in interest. “Are you uncomfortable right now?”

“Well, _obviously._ ” Alfred huffed. Not having much of a filter really was going to bite him in the ass someday. He wasn’t one to deny the pros of candor, but sometimes telling the truth was a bit problematic. At least no one could call him a two-faced asshole. “I’ve been doing this same exercise off and on for half an hour. I’d like to see you do this and not get uncomfortable.”

Somehow Alfred had the feeling that wasn’t the answer Arthur had expected (maybe wanted?), but neither of them had the chance to say anything else after that.

They were just milling about the main recreation area today – where the majority of people who saw him walk out on Arthur that first day had been, Alfred realized – so when the phone rang at the front desk, the receptionist didn’t have to get up to go looking for Arthur.

“Arthur!” She called out, and Arthur glanced forlornly at the ceiling. “You have a phone call.”

“Bloody brilliant.” Arthur grumbled with a slight sigh, setting his clipboard down on the chair next to Alfred’s. “Keep doing your exercise. We will… _You_ will move on when I get back.”

“Take your time!” Alfred called after Arthur’s retreating form, and once he was certain the older man was preoccupied, the teen allowed his arm to drop back to his side. “Ugh, this is _bull_ shit.”

Alfred had gotten somewhat used to spending his afternoons here, but for some reason, today was just downright unbearable. Bored didn’t even begin to describe Alfred’s overall mood. All he wanted to do was go home, call Kiku and Elizabeta, and crank up the PS3.

Come to think of it… he hadn’t actually told them that his watch had come off, had he? Alfred winced at the realization, didn’t want to think about what Lizzie might do to him if she found out he waited nearly a week to say something. They both knew that he didn’t believe in the accuracy of the watches, but the two of them would make a big deal out of it if they – as his best friends – were among the last to know.

He still wanted to pretend it never happened, but the chances of that happening were slim to none. He was surprised his bigmouth of a mother hadn’t called everyone in town already.

Glancing toward the front desk only to find that Arthur was still talking on the phone – now with his back turned, though Alfred could tell from his posture that he was either annoyed or completely pissed off – Alfred turned his attention to the clipboard Arthur was always looking at.

There was nothing interesting printed on the top sheet of paper. It was mostly blank aside from the details involving his injury. Alfred noticed a number at the top of the page, printed in what was probably Arthur’s handwriting: _1227._

What the heck did that mean?

“Change of plans, Alfred.” Alfred jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice. He hadn’t even heard the trainer approaching. “Something’s come up, so one of my colleagues is going to finish your session in my stead.”

“What, you late for a hot date or something?”

“Funny.” Arthur said flatly, reclaiming his clipboard. “I don’t recall telling you to stop.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t.” Alfred replied. “Who’s your replacement? Is it that chick with the nice rack?”

“Her name is Sofia, and no. Her brother Ivan works here. She visits from time to time.”

“Don’t have to be specially trained to tell a high school kid to move his arm in a circle.”

“Good _bye,_ Alfred.” Arthur said pointedly before turning to walk away again.

Alfred scowled at his retreating form. Having to feign interest in boobs was an all time low. What more would he have to do before Arthur finally snapped?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred, Elizabeta, and Kiku interact the way my friends and I do, I swear. It's ridiculous. See if you can guess what video game they're playing.

“Al, one of those big guys is behind you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can hear him. Would you two hurry up and finish the mission already?”

“Well, we would if you would do your job and take care of the stupid zombies!”

Alfred rolled his eyes, though of course Elizabeta couldn’t see. Her voice was every bit as harping over the Skype call. “There’s only one of me and fifty-thousand of them. Plus, my character is the one with the bum leg. Cut me some slack.”

The blue-eyed teenager fixed his gaze firmly on his television screen, finishing off the zombie he was currently fighting with a curb-stomp combo. After leaving the rehabilitation center, he’d immediately gone up to his room and texted Kiku and Elizabeta, just as he’d planned. Thankfully neither of them had lives, so they were available to try and finish the game they’d been working on for months.  

It was a good thing they were. After Arthur left, that Ivan guy had come to stay with Alfred for the remainder of his session. That guy wasn’t nearly as fun to jibe at as Arthur, so Alfred had been pretty bored.

He’d still yet to tell his friends about his watch coming off. He wanted to prolong that as much as possible.

“Kiku’s wearing heels and he’s _still_ doing more than you right now!” Elizabeta said, though she was half screaming at the video game. “Oh, you mother _fucker!_ ”

“She has a point.” Kiku’s voice wafted out of the speakers on Alfred’s laptop, seated beside him on the floor. His character on-screen moved forward to finish off the huge zombie that had bear-pawed Elizabeta’s character to the ground. Alfred just stood and watched, accepting the likelihood of his imminent death. “Are you feeling okay, Alfred? You’ve died more times than your average.”

“My arm’s kinda killing me. It hurts every time I try to push a button.” Alfred leaned back in his beanbag chair as he waited to be revived. Having to listen for sounds outside his bedroom door was also distracting him from the game.

Usually after he came home from spending an hour with Arthur, his mom wanted to play 20 Questions, most of which no normal teenage boy would want his mother asking him; but for some reason, she’d left him alone today. Whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be determined, so Alfred wasn’t going to let his guard down.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Kiku said with an air of realization. Alfred followed after him once he was revived, leaving Elizabeta alone to deal with the hoard while they climbed up a set of stairs in search of the alarm they were supposed to be turning off. “Are you doing anything about that? Or are you just supposed to wait for it to heal on its own?”

“I have to go to physical therapy everyday for a few weeks.” Alfred said after some consideration. “It’s stupid. My parents are paying money just so I can do some exercises that I could’ve looked up on the Internet and done at home.”

“Oh, thank God. I was getting sick of that alarm.” Elizabeta said when Kiku finally deactivated the cellblock’s alarm system. “Let’s move out, bitches! Do you at least get a hot trainer or something, Al? When I tore my ACL last year, my physical therapist was some guy from Spain. He was delicious. Remember him, Kiku? You had to drive me one time.”

“Why am I not surprised you don’t remember his name?” Kiku sighed while Alfred winced at Elizabeta’s question. Of _course_ she would bring up the one topic he wanted desperately to avoid.

“Well,” Alfred paused. Was Arthur hot? Perhaps he wasn’t the one to ask, since he was horribly biased and all. “He’s British.”

“You lucky son of a bitch. Hey, isn’t that one of your, like, kinks or whatever?”

“I’m not attracted to him or anything, so it doesn’t even matter.”

“Touchy.” Elizabeta laughed, and Alfred took a swung at her with his katana, though he couldn’t do damage to her. He enjoyed games when you could actually hurt your teammates when in multiplayer. Certainly would’ve come in handy right about now. “Oh, guess what? As of today, I’ll officially meet my soul mate in seven years!”

Alfred had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. “Fucking fantastic. Can we just play the game, please?”

“I hope they’re not some stiff, office-worker type.” Elizabeta continued. She was long used to Alfred’s rants about the soul mate watches. “I need someone fun.”

“Oh, look at that.” Alfred said loudly. “There’s a zombie glitched through the wall. How nice!”

Kiku stopped walking, turned to the zombie Alfred was referring to and took an experimental swing at it. When nothing happened, he kept going. “This game is horrible.”

“Wasn’t my idea to play it. The Last of Us multiplayer game-play is godawful, otherwise we’d be playing that instead.”

“Did you download the new DLC, Al? I called Ellie being a lesbian. You owe me ten dollars.”

“What? That’s not fair, you have a sixth sense when it comes to that shit!”

“Gentlemen! Focus, please!” Elizabeta barked, shooting at a couple of guards that appeared around the corner. How they managed to stay human in a cell block completely infested by zombies was beyond Alfred. Kiku was right. The game sucked. “All I can think about is my soul mate, and you two, as my friends, need to indulge me.”

“I’ll mute you if you start up with that shit again.”

“Would you rather we talk about you? You’re supposed to meet the Mister or Missus sometime this year, right?”

Alfred steeled himself, thumb poised over the B button, ready to make a hasty getaway. It didn’t matter if Lizzie couldn’t do any damage to him in multiplayer. She wouldn’t give up until _something_ happened.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually.” Kiku admitted, sounding slightly worried. “What are you going to do when you meet them, Al?”

Alfred thought back to that day, the infuriated heat that had stained his cheeks red as he stalked away from all those prying eyes. “Yeah, about that. You know my trainer? British guy I am in no way attracted to? Well… he’s the guy, I guess.”

Elizabeta and Kiku were silent for a few moments. They didn’t stop running to get back to the main mission, but everything might as well have been at a stand still. “Clarify, please.” Elizabeta said eventually. “I want to make sure I understand this completely.”

Alfred groaned, glancing at his laptop screen forlornly, even if it was just an audio call and he couldn’t see his friends. “It happened about a week ago. Our timers went off when we looked at each other, okay? Don’t make me say it, you know I don’t believe in this crap.”

When he glanced back at the television, he was alone. Surprised, he stopped running and swiveled around only to find that Elizabeta and Kiku’s characters were motionless. Eventually, Elizabeta lifted her gun and shot at the propane tank right next to Alfred, blowing it up and effectively killing him.

“Jesus Christ, Lizzie, what the _fuck!_ I thought you couldn’t kill each other in multiplayer!”

“You can’t.” Kiku said.

“Then that was the glitchiest piece of shit I’ve ever seen!”

“A _week_?” Elizabeta screeched, her voice crackling through the speakers. “You waited a fucking week to tell us that you met your soul mate?”

“He’s not my damn soul mate. I don’t even like him that much!”

“Ohhh, my God, I’m gonna throttle you the next time I see you, Alfred Jones.”

“What’s his name?” Kiku inquired. He sounded calm, but Alfred knew he was probably just as infuriated as Lizzie, if not more so. They’d been friends since Pre-K. They told each other everything. Alfred had ultimately violated the Guy Code of Conduct.

“His name’s Arthur.”

“Last name?”

“Kirkland.”

“Favorite color?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“What’s his foot size?” Elizabeta cut in, still wasting her bullets by shooting at Alfred.

“I wouldn’t answer that even if I knew, you thirsty bitch. And I don’t care to.”

Kiku snorted, and Elizabeta broke out into hysteric laughter. “Lies! If the guy’s English, you gotta know his dick size in order to function, Alfie.”

Alfred scowled at the TV, contemplating whether or not to yank the PS3 cable out of the wall. “Untrue.”

“Benedict Cumberbatch? David Tennant? Daniel Radcliffe?”

“Dan Howell?” Kiku cut in unhelpfully.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Alfred shouted, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t alone in the house. “God, I hate you both.”

“This is huge, Alfred!” Elizabeta exclaimed, still recovering from her laughing fit. They weren’t even trying to play the game anymore. “You’re only seventeen and you met your soul mate! Aw, this is so exciting. Baby Alfie’s growing up. I could cry.”

Kiku didn’t say anything to add to Elizabeta’s claim. Unlike her, he knew exactly why Alfred wasn’t fond of the biological clocks, and while he would get upset that Alfred had kept this from them, he wouldn’t dare get bent out of shape just because Alfred wasn’t happy about his situation.

“I’m doing whatever I can to make him lose interest in me.” Alfred said. “So far, I haven’t received positive results.”

“Has he come on to you?”

“Hell no. I’m pretty sure he knows better than that. He just doesn’t _do_ anything. It’s like he forgot all about what happened.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Kiku asked.

“Well, yeah, but – “ It wasn’t supposed to be that easy, right? As far as society was concerned, Alfred and Arthur were soul mates. Alfred had been rebelling against that for years, but what about Arthur? Alfred had expected more of a fight, but so far, his own family was pushing him more than Arthur was. The teenager didn’t know what to make of it. “It’s just weird, I guess.”

“I’m sure he’s in a Hell of desire for you.” Elizabeta said reassuringly, as if Alfred was concerned about that. “But let’s be real. You’re about as approachable as a poisonous snake.”

“I mean, he’s okay.” Alfred admitted. He would never say any of this to his parents or Matt. “I don’t hate him, and he’s fun to mess with. But I don’t like feeling like I’m obligated to love him just because a timer told me to.”

“Fall in love with him on your own then. He’s a Brit, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Alfred wanted to tear at his hair in frustration, so he did, dropping his controller in his lap. “I’d still be going along with what everyone wants me to do. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Kiku said before Elizabeta could complain some more. “It’s your life, Al. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Elizabeta sighed heavily. “Yeah, I agree. Sorry, Al. You know I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Yeah, and it’s gross.” Alfred replied, though he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

A knock on his door ruined that, however, and Alfred scowled at the door, suddenly anxious for what was to come. “Who is it?”

The door opened with a creak, revealing Matthew, and Alfred turned to reach for his laptop. “Gotta go, guys. See you later.”

Elizabeta and Kiku voiced their goodbyes before Alfred closed the Skype call and tossed his laptop back up to his bed. Turning back to his brother, he said, “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” Matthew said seriously, and Alfred frowned.

“Are you dying? Am _I_ dying?”

“ _Alfred.”_

“Okay, fine.” Alfred huffed, standing up and climbing up onto his bed, sitting on his pillows and crisscrossing his legs. “Take a seat. Let’s get this over with.”

He kind of wished his mom had come to talk to him instead of his older brother. Not to say that he felt uncomfortable around Matthew, because they were way beyond that stage and aside from Elizabeta and Kiku, there was no one Alfred trusted more. It was just… if Alfred was to talk about soul mates with anyone, Matthew was the _last_ person he would pick.

“So, Mom’s kinda freaking out.” Matthew began with a slight sigh after he sat down. “She thinks you’re squandering your future.”

Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m reaching the end of my rope here, Matt. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Give Mr. Kirkland a chance?”

“Why?” Alfred demanded, throwing his hands in the air and trying to ignore the burning in his throat. “What the fuck does it matter to any of you? You could just back off and everything would be fine.”

“But you wouldn’t be happy, Al.”

“Do I look happy?” Alfred asked seriously, staring his brother down as tears started to blur his vision. He’d be damned if he let them fall, but he wasn’t going to sit there and let his brother make him feel badly for his opinions. It was partially Matt’s fault in the first place, though Alfred felt guilty for even thinking it. “Give me your honest to God opinion if you think I'm happy or not.”

Matthew only sighed again. He’d been doing that a lot lately. The nineteen-year-old pulled his legs up onto the bed and shifted around until he was facing Alfred, his legs crossed as well. “No, you don’t. And I’m sorry, Al, I really am. But… the point I guess Mom, your dad, and I are trying to make is that you used to be really excited about finding your soul mate. You can’t deny that.”

Alfred sniffed, rubbing at his face furiously. “Don’t remind me that I used to be as idiotic as the rest of you.”

“You used to be kind, you used to be… charismatic. But that kid disappeared. I think that being with Mr. Kirkland would be good for you, okay?”

“First of all, I’m still kind to the people who deserve it. Second, did you ever consider that maybe I just grew up? Realized that when an attraction is strong enough, endorphins are released into the bloodstream and the watches react to that? So I saw Arthur and my watch went off. That just means I really wanna fuck him, not that I have to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“That makes zero sense.” Matthew groaned, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Your watch would have gone off weekly if that was the case. And what about the numbers, huh? You can’t deny that it counted down to the day you met Arthur exactly. Plus, the odds of two people being equally attracted to each other just from making eye contact is slim to none.”

“I never said it makes sense. But then, neither does the concept of _soul mates,_ Matthew!”

The two of them glared at each other, Alfred mostly over his small emotional breakdown. He wasn’t even sure why his brother was trying to reason with him. They’d been down this road before, multiple times in fact. It was getting old. “Look, it just – “ Alfred huffed, searching for words. “It doesn’t work, all right? My existence is proof enough of that.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“What? It’s a legitimate reason. You know that more than anybody.”

“I don’t see how you can’t just let that slide.” Matt said tiredly, and Alfred wanted so badly to punch him. “Just don’t let our parents’ actions ruin your chances at happiness, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

Alfred refused to say anything. He’d had enough and wanted his brother to leave before he did or said something stupid. He didn’t respond when his brother gave him a brief hug, didn’t even blink until Matt had left the room entirely. Once he was completely alone, Alfred let out a shuddering laugh tinged with hysteria and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

Matthew was always telling him to forget and move on. How long would it be before he realized that Alfred just couldn’t, no matter how badly he wanted to?

If there was one thing Alfred had learned since he was a kid, _one_ thing that changed him from the boy Matthew had spoken of, it was that time didn’t heal all wounds. It only made them worse.

It didn't hit Alfred until half an hour later that he'd basically told Matthew he wouldn't mind sleeping with Arthur.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the only time Alfred will be angst-ridden and somewhat complacent, because it really isn't in his nature to be sentimental like that; or it hasn't been since he started high school. Everyone has their off days, even our confrontational hero.

The next day, Alfred went back to the rehabilitation center.

It was raining, the skies terribly overcast, and Alfred ignored the umbrella his mom offered him and the protests she uttered when he did so. To be honest, he hadn’t really noticed her gesture, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice, too consumed by his own melancholic attitude.

He hadn’t been able to shake it after he spoke with his brother the previous day. The temperamental teenager had spent the remaining daylight hours in solitude and didn’t get to bed until four in the morning. All he really did was cry and read off and on again throughout the night, struggling to keep quiet in case his nosy-ass parents heard and decided to check on him.

Alfred wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly cracked. He hadn’t felt that depressed since eighth grade, when he found out that he and Matthew were only half-brothers, and that the infrequent trips his older brother made out of state were to visit his biological dad: their mom’s first husband and soul mate.

His life was a fucking mess, and the weather only seemed to agree with him.

Arthur took the arrival of a soaking wet Alfred in stride and offered him a towel to dry his hair and clothing as best he could. Alfred didn’t protest, didn’t comment on Arthur’s sudden departure the previous day, didn’t even talk until it became abundantly clear to him that Arthur wasn’t going to let his uncharacteristic silence go.

He hovered, never straying from Alfred’s side for too long even when the teen was doing his repetitive exercises. Usually Arthur would wander off to use the bathroom or chat up one of his coworkers, anything to get away from his estranged soul mate, but not today. Alfred didn’t even notice until around twelve-thirty, when the phone at the front desk rang and Arthur called for the receptionist to take a message.

No matter how many times that phone rang or how many exasperated sighs the poor woman answering it uttered, Arthur refused to budge.

It did little to improve Alfred’s mood.

“Just because I walked in a little wet doesn’t mean you need to treat me like a wounded animal.” Alfred said bitterly nearly forty-five minutes into the session. Arthur jumped at his side, having probably resigned himself to a day free of Alfred’s acidic tongue. “I’m seventeen, not five.”

“I was more concerned about the brooding silence.” Arthur replied. “Are you feeling okay?”

Alfred frowned. “I’m peachy. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Arthur gave Alfred a sidelong glance, expression tinged with incredulity. The skin where Alfred’s watch used to be seemed to burn, and the teenager averted his gaze quickly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did the storm keep you up?”

“Something like that.”

An especially loud boom sounded immediately after, as if to support Alfred’s claim. The florescent lighting overhead flickered briefly, and Arthur sighed, turning his head to glance out the window. “I do enjoy a nice thunderstorm. But only when I’m in the comforts of my own home.”

“Same.” Alfred said, scowling at the realization that he was actually making small talk. With Arthur Kirkland, no less. That wasn’t going to work. “Stop talking to me. I’m concentrating.”

“I do believe you were the one who spoke first.” Arthur retorted, though Alfred didn’t take the bait, focusing his attention on the five-pound weight he was supposed to be lifting. _Slowly,_ Arthur had stressed, or Alfred might tear a ligament or something like that. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Alfred? You’re slightly less confrontational than usual.”

Alfred didn’t know what to say, didn’t like the thought that Arthur knew what “usual” for Alfred was, but for once, he couldn’t find words to express that.

Between the sobbing fits and ten-minute power naps, Alfred had come to the conclusion that he didn’t hate Arthur Kirkland. They’d only known each other a week, and Alfred was still struggling to accept the man as an acquaintance, let alone a possible… _whatever,_ but he didn’t hate him.

All things considered, the Brit was a pretty cool guy. He was socially inept and jumpy and stunted, but, hey, so was Alfred. They were more alike than the teenager wanted to admit, and if it weren’t for the watches, Alfred might have considered making the man a friend, age difference be damned.

He wanted to tell Arthur that. The man deserved that much, at least; but for once, Alfred didn’t feel like talking, didn’t want to explain himself. If Arthur was really his soul mate, he shouldn’t need to, anyway.

“Arthur.” He surprised the both of them by speaking. It was also the first time he’d called the older man by name. Alfred didn’t know what he was doing, only found that he couldn’t stop staring at the pale strip of skin on his wrist. “I was wondering – “

Alfred choked. His thoughts caught up with his mouth and he realized with some horror that he’d been about to ask Arthur what he’d done with his watch. Alfred had some idea as to where his was: rotting in some junk yard, or maybe still at the bottom of the trashcan in his bedroom. Some people framed their watches or sealed them away where they couldn’t be lost or damaged, but not Alfred.

He couldn’t deny that he was slightly curious to know what Arthur had done with his, but like Hell was he just going to ask him outright.

His stomach fluttered in panic when Arthur started to speak, but then another clap of thunder sounded and the facility was plunged in darkness. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, though his blood began to boil with annoyance when the other patrons gasped aloud or made some other loud noise, as if they’d never lived through a power outage before.

“Perfect.” Alfred heard Arthur mumble before the trainer was on his feet, heading for the front desk. “Wait here, Alfred.”

The teenager watched him go, setting his weight on the chair on his right side, curling and uncurling his fingers as his eyes adjusted to the sudden gloom.

Alfred wasn’t sure what to do. He’d been feeling sick for hours now, ever since he woke up that morning ten minutes before he was supposed to leave to come here. He wasn’t used to it anymore, the uncomfortable pinch of anxiety and dread in his gut. Over the years, he’d learned to suppress it, had never relied on medicines or therapy if only because he didn’t want his parents to know how awful he felt, but for some reason, his gift had decided to leave him.

It was easier to just be angry and spiteful all the time, to forget that his very life was the product of the failed system in which they all lived. Alfred wanted to tell Arthur, to say that Alfred’s mom had cheated on her supposed soul mate nearly two years after they got hitched. They’d ultimately divorced, and nine months later, newly married to another man whose life with his soul mate had ended in tragedy, Alfred was born.

He’d grown up not knowing. No one ever let on that anything was less than perfect, and Alfred had been happy. His parents spoiled him and his brother rotten, kept the atmosphere of their home warm and joyful, so of course Alfred never suspected a thing.

But Matthew had hated him. Sitting in the dark amidst the storm, even years after the isolation ended, Alfred could still bring forth an image of his older brother’s back, hunched and brooding. Matt always used to walk away, never smiled or even glanced in Alfred’s direction if it wasn’t necessary. As a kid, Alfred never understood. He didn’t complain either, because Matt was his older brother, the person he idolized, so of course Alfred would allow him to do whatever he wanted.

Alfred never stopped trying, however. He followed his brother everywhere, pestered him day and night in the hope that maybe someday, Matthew would look at him. Eventually, Matt did just that, but it was only when he reached his limit, when Alfred was just about to graduate junior high and the faux happiness in their home made him sick.

Matthew told him everything. How their mom had cheated on Matthew’s dad with Alfred’s. Matt was only two at the time and hardly understood all the confusion, but unlike Alfred, he wasn’t kept in the dark all his life; and he hated Alfred with everything he had, blamed him for his parents’ separation. He told his younger brother their family’s history to be spiteful, but he’d once said that he never imagined the impact it would have on Alfred.

The blue-eyed teenager thought it was pretty fucking stupid. News like that was obviously going to fuck a person up, especially when he realized his entire life was a lie. For years, Alfred had looked forward to meeting his soul mate. He and Kiku used to fantasize about what their partners would be like when they were younger, and looking back, Alfred was pressed to admit that a lot of the qualities his younger self had named fit Arthur to various degrees.

Humorous, handsome, foreign, gentle, kind-hearted, and interesting. It was such a simple list that Alfred thought he still had somewhere in his room. Even at such a young age, Alfred had known that women were a firm “Nah” and that those of foreign origin – especially the British – were a definite “Hell yes.” He’d believed in those dumb clocks. He’d looked at his parents and seen love and devotion. He had wanted a marriage like theirs.

But his brother fucked it all up. Alfred wasn’t angry anymore, not that he really had been to begin with. Matt realized his mistake pretty soon after it happened and strove to make up for all the years of neglect or whatever the fuck he called it. Alfred just never recovered.

Like Matt said. Alfred changed, turned bitter, and by the time he met Arthur, he was beyond done with the whole thing.

Arthur didn’t need to know that at one point, Alfred had wanted to meet him more than anything. He didn’t need to know that Alfred tried to cut the clock out of his skin his freshman year of high school, or prayed to some God that he didn’t believe in on various occasions on the off chance that someone was listening in hopes that the numbers would just disappear one day with no warning.

Arthur would never know that Alfred felt exceedingly guilty that the Englishman didn’t experience what so many people in the movies did, would never know how it felt to have the person he was destined to be with jump into his arms and cry because love was a fucking wondrous thing; but then, it wasn’t in Alfred’s nature to act like that even if he did believe in soul mates.

He wanted to blame Matt so badly, but if the roles had been switched, Alfred couldn’t say with certainty that he would’ve acted any differently. They were brothers after all, regardless of paternity. They were more alike than Alfred cared to realize.

“Well, I think everyone’s being sent home for the day.” Alfred blinked as Arthur came wandering back, rubbing at the back of his neck with a slight scowl on his face as he stared at Alfred in the gloom. “Looks like you’ve been saved by the weather, Jones.” Alfred sat up straighter in his seat. Arthur had never called him that before and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Is your ride here?” Arthur continued, and Alfred nodded slightly.

“I don’t think my mom ever leaves.”

Arthur nodded as well, and even though everyone around them was moving to and fro, collecting items or clocking out for the day, neither of them moved a muscle. Alfred couldn’t make his legs work, and it didn’t help that Arthur was just freaking _staring_ at him. It was a whole new level of awkward for the two of them.

“What you were saying before.” Arthur said eventually. “Was it important?”

Alfred breathed out a sigh and stood, proud that he didn’t stumble. “Nah, not really. I was just wondering how much longer I have to keep coming here. I don’t know about you, but I’m wasting my summer.”

Lightning illuminated the training room briefly, but it was all the time Alfred needed to see the slight, sad smile on Arthur’s face. “Just a few more weeks and then you’re free of this place for good.”

Alfred couldn’t forget the look on Arthur’s face for hours after he left, nor could he ignore the almost… relieved feeling he’d had when Arthur said Alfred would be free of “this place.”

Perhaps Alfred was growing attached to his trainer, but he also desperately wanted to be free of rehab and of Arthur in particular, if only to regain some sense of normalcy; but it didn’t seem as if Arthur shared the same sentiment. If Arthur hadn’t given up by now, then Alfred didn’t know what else to do; and if he didn't sever all ties now, there was no guarantee that his recovery would be the end of his interactions with Arthur Kirkland.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins the process of Arthur steadily wearing Alfred down. Al does a fine job of that on his own, actually.

Saturday was complete bullshit.

Sappy weirdness from the previous day gone, Alfred was hypersensitive to every obnoxious thing that went down.

Matt knocked on his door at seven in the morning to ask if he wanted to go on a run, and Alfred yelled for his brother fuck himself with a lance – which, of course, was somewhere in their basement since Alfred’s dad had once been a Renaissance fair geek… and probably still was to some degree.

Unable to go back to sleep, Alfred had stayed awake watching reruns of _Boy Meets World_ until his mom came down into the living room and started reminiscing about her past. She was so unfazed when Alfred politely told her that he couldn’t care less about her simply enthralling childhood stories that she actually called him cute and proceeded to ask if he wanted his eggs scrambled or poached – _What teenager eats his eggs fucking poached, Mother?_

Then there was his dad. As Chief of Police, the guy was entirely too intense. He didn’t have much down time, especially on the holidays, but it was his own choice. He liked working, and Alfred wasn’t about to complain; but on the rare Saturdays that he did have off, the head of the Jones household was insufferable.

His dad alternated between two moods, either wanting to be left the fuck alone or all up in everyone’s business. There was absolutely no in-between. On that particular day, Alfred’s dad was feeling social. He talked about everything and nothing, ignoring the bored expression on Alfred’s face as he did or maybe just not noticing at all. Either way, he wouldn’t shut up, and it got to a point where Alfred had to get out or he would go insane.

On the bright side, Alfred didn’t have to go to therapy or see Arthur. It was a nice break, especially after the confusion and upset from the previous day. The blond teen just decided he wasn’t going to think about Arthur or soul mates for the weekend. It was surprisingly easy, what with his family acting like complete idiots for whatever reason. Alfred barely had the time to breathe, let alone worry about his infuriatingly attractive trainer.

Alfred waited until noon to call Kiku, even though he knew his friend woke up everyday at six-thirty for whatever reason.

“Dude, what are you doing today?”

“Watching riveting documentaries on the Oprah network with my mother, most likely.”

“You think she’d mind if I stole you for a bit?”

“I’d be delighted, so let’s not worry about her.”

Alfred stole Matthew’s car to go pick up Kiku at his parents’, nearly a fifteen-minute drive away. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last, especially not since Matt had a nasty habit of leaving his car keys in the ignition and his doors unlocked.

Kiku came out at the first honk and the two of them made a break for the public library. Kiku didn’t even ask about Alfred’s possession of his older brother’s car. Even though he didn’t have his license – or even his restricted since Alfred pretty much majored in laziness – Alfred had been regularly stealing his brother’s car since he was about fourteen.

The leather seats of Matt’s Buick had paid witness to a lot of shit, like Alfred, Kiku, and Elizabeta’s experimental go at smoking, which all three of them had vowed to never do again. The seats were probably still slightly stained with blood in some places, because Elizabeta had a habit of starting fights that she couldn’t finish on her own. Hell, Alfred had even lost his virginity in the backseat, though that was an experience the teenager would rather forget if at all possible.

The damn thing might as well have been Alfred’s own car. It wasn’t as if Matt ever ratted him out when he found it missing. Alfred still wasn’t sure why, though it probably had something to do with his older brother’s guilt at having singlehandedly ruined Alfred’s life.

Not that Alfred held a grudge against him or anything.

He hadn’t been pulled over as of yet, so Alfred was pretty confident in his driving skills. They arrived at the library in one piece anyway, and Alfred was so glad to be away form his family that he almost felt like crying, as if he hadn't been doing enough of that lately.

If there was one thing Alfred loved more than playing video games, it was reading. Most people were shocked if they somehow came to that conclusion, and Alfred wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed by that. Just because he was an abrasive asshole didn’t mean he wasn’t cultured or intelligent, but it did bring the teen some satisfaction that he never quite fit the mold assigned to him.

Alfred and Kiku made it tradition to frequent the library on the first Saturday of every month, and the workers were pretty used to them just walking in, finding a random isle of books, and sitting down for the rest of the afternoon. They pulled forth book after book and read the first chapter of each to see if it was worthy of finishing – though Alfred knew that sometimes it took a while for a novel to kick in and expose its true merit – but it was fun, and they wasted quite a bit of time.

Unless something extravagant happened within the first chapter, they usually didn’t talk. They didn’t really have to. After so many years of friendship, the silences weren’t awkward, and they didn’t have to work to keep each other entertained. Elizabeta couldn’t sit still to save her life, otherwise she would’ve been invited as well; though as much as Alfred loved her, sometimes he just wanted it to be himself and Kiku, just as it was when they were bright-eyed and optimistic, idealistic fools who didn’t have a single clue.

“My parents are talking about visiting my grandparents for a few weeks just before school starts again.” Kiku said nearly two hours after they arrived.

Alfred glanced up, though Kiku was still staring at his book, dark eyes intense behind his reading glasses. It was the first thing either of them had said since settling in, and Alfred wondered why it was so important. “Cool.” Alfred replied. “Bring back a souvenir.”

“I don’t really want to go.” Kiku sighed. “You know I hate flying.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know why. Airplanes are awesome.”

What Alfred wouldn’t give to go to Japan at least once. Traveling sounded kick-ass and it always had, but he’d remained stationary all his life, stuck in this stupid town. Kiku’s parents had once offered to take him along the summer before they started high school, but that was when Alfred had learned the truth about his parents and was going through some… unpleasant changes. His parents had wanted to keep him close, so they’d refused to let him go. It only served to push Alfred away more, but whatever.

As a wise mandrill once said, “It’s in the past so it doesn’t matter!” or something like that. Alfred wasn’t much for Disney.

“You say that now. But you’d miss me if the plane crashed and I died.”

“Well, duh. You’re my other half.” Alfred said seriously, and Kiku cracked a smile. “What gives, dude? You haven’t complained about visiting your family before. Not to mention that you’re disturbing the sanctity of the library trip.”

“I guess I’m just… edgy.” Kiku admitted, and Alfred wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. Kiku had been fidgety all day, taking longer to read his chapter than he normally did. His stack of books was considerably smaller than Alfred’s, and while that wasn’t unusual, it was still disconcerting. “Mom and Dad have been acting weird.”

“Define weird.”

“Talking in hushed tones and stopping when I walk into the room. They go to work earlier and come home late at night. Not to mention that they keep asking how you’re doing.”

“Okay, definitely weird.” Alfred said, leaning back against the bookshelf cautiously, not wanting to disturb any of the books or knock them over completely. “Did you tell them about my watch coming off?”

Kiku shook his head. “It hasn’t come up. Still trying to get over the fact that you waited a week to tell me, honestly.”

“I’ve apologized so many times now!” Alfred said fiercely, though quietly. He wasn’t about to get harped at by that grouchy librarian who seemed to know nothing about stereotypes or how to avoid them. “I was trying to forget it happened, okay? You know how I get. The whole thing freaked me out.”

“I’m not mad at you. Just surprised.”

“Why?”

“Not much gets to you. That man. He gets to you.”

Kiku had completely abandoned his book by now, staring hard into Alfred’s eyes, and the teenager sighed, closing his paperback gently. “Yeah, I guess he does.”

“You told Lizzie and me that you didn’t like him. Is that still true?”

“Not… really.” Alfred said slowly, weighing his options. He’d wanted to forget about Arthur for the weekend. He could either shut his friend down now or answer all his questions. All Alfred knew was that he understood Kiku better than anyone else. There was always a reason behind the madness. “I said I don’t hate him, and I really don’t. If it weren’t for the clocks, I’d probably go for it.”

Alfred was no stranger to desire. He was a teenage boy finely tuned with his own hormones, and he indulged in them quite often. If he was attracted to somebody, he was going to go for it, and he’d done that all his adolescent life; but with Arthur, it was different. New. Alfred couldn’t reach out and take as he’d done in the past, wasn’t sure if he really even wanted to.

If Arthur were to, for whatever reason, divulge to Alfred that he wasn’t opposed to casual sex with no strings attached, Alfred would jump at the chance with no hesitation; but it was obvious Arthur wasn’t like that, at least not where Alfred was concerned. Arthur cared. He wouldn’t even bring up the topic of the clocks because he knew it upset Alfred. They were too emotionally invested and they hadn’t even had a real conversation. A one-night stand wouldn’t work between them.

“Not to mention that it’s illegal.” Alfred said aloud, to both Kiku and himself. “I’m a minor and he’s not.”

“I’m sure they’d bend the rules since you’re soul mates and all.”

“And that’s exactly why I hate the system.”

They fell into silence. Alfred wasn’t really angry, not with Kiku. He was probably the only one who could ask these questions and not provoke Alfred’s rage, and Kiku knew it, too.

“Remember when we were kids,” Kiku began anew, “and you told me that until we found our soul mates, you would be my other half and I’d be yours?”

Alfred frowned. “I’m not gonna ditch you, Kiku, if that’s what you’re worried about. Bros before hoes or… whatever the fuck.”

Kiku smiled slightly, shaking his head. “I’m not worried about that, Al. We just promised to take care of each other. Your watch may be gone, but it’s still my responsibility to make sure you’re okay. I have to protect you, even from yourself.”

Alfred could only stare, his expression carefully controlled. Inside, he was a mess. He didn’t deserve Kiku and he never had. He was an asshole, a horrible friend, and here Kiku was anyway, talking about protecting him.

“I wish you were my soul mate.” Alfred said quietly after a time. He didn’t feel romantically for Kiku, but in his mind, soul mates were more than that. Kiku really was his best friend, and they’d always been beneficial to one another, perfectly foiled in every way. Contrary to popular belief, romantic devotion was not the best kind of love. “I can’t think of anybody who loves me more than you do.”

Kiku sighed heavily, though he seemed different to how he’d been a minute ago, lighter somehow. “I beg to differ.”

Alfred struggled to contain his laughter, but he froze entirely when he heard a voice say his name incredulously. He and Kiku turned to look toward the mouth of the isle, both for different reasons. Alfred wanted to curl up and die.

Arthur looked stunned, heat rising to his face as if he hadn’t meant to say anything and draw attention to himself. It took Alfred a long moment to realize that he was rather shamelessly ogling Arthur, but the man looked… different. Alfred had only seen him in his work uniform, beige slacks and blue polo, the definition of bland.

But this Arthur was off-duty, disheveled in nearly every sense of the word. His blond hair was even messier than usual, and he didn’t look very professional with his dark jeans, leather jacket, and black sneakers; and was that a… _stud_ in his nose?

Alfred realized with some horror that he was about to start drooling and looked away. Arthur fit his preferences down to a point, even more so than before. “It’s official.” Alfred said decisively to Kiku. “I am the unluckiest person on the face of the earth.”

“Define unlucky.” Kiku replied, still eyeing Arthur with something akin to appreciation. Alfred felt the sudden urge to smack him. “Because that is definitely top notch luck right there.”

“Um, I’m sorry.” Arthur said, beginning to back away. Even if his appearance had changed drastically, he was still the socially awkward noob Alfred had come to somewhat appreciate. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, intrude away.” Kiku said, setting his book down. Alfred was instantly on alert. Kiku was intuitive. Even if he wasn’t one hundred percent positive about who Arthur was, he had guessed based on both of their reactions to one another. This was bad. “I was just about to go to the bathroom. Would you mind keeping Alfred company until I get back?”

Alfred wanted to scream. _What happened to protecting me, you son of a bitch? Oh my God, this is not fucking happening._

Kiku was gone before Alfred could collect his thoughts, get his mouth to start working. Arthur was motionless, watching Alfred carefully when the blue-eyed teen spared a glance, and Alfred knew he couldn’t run from this.

With a sigh, he beckoned to Arthur. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you. You can go if you want, but… “

Arthur nodded, moving forward slowly, as if approaching a wounded, feral animal. After fidgeting a bit more, the man sat down where Kiku had previously been, mimicking Alfred’s position and crossing his legs.

Alfred had to force himself not to stare at the bulge in the man’s pants, wondering if the position was uncomfortable for him. “So,” Alfred said, determined to pretend that nothing was wrong, “what brings you here?”

“Peter.” Arthur said instantly, though he winced soon after. “Ah, my little brother. My parents usually bring him here for story time on Saturdays, but since they’re otherwise preoccupied today, I brought him instead.”

Alfred was beyond done with Arthur Kirkland. Now he was good with kids? Even if Alfred wasn’t drooling at this point, his mother certainly would’ve been if she were around. “How old is he?”

“Eleven. He’s a bit of a prat.”

“Aren’t we all at that age?” Alfred mused, eyeing Arthur’s face again. “What’s with the nose ring?”

Arthur looked confused for a moment, subconsciously reaching up to finger his stud. “Oh. Sorry, I forgot you haven’t seen me with it in. I hardly ever wear it to work. Some find it unprofessional.” As he spoke, Alfred let his eyes wander to Arthur’s mouth, catching sight of another piercing on his tongue. Dear God, what was Arthur trying to do to him?

“It looks cool.” Alfred said with sincerity that wasn’t entirely forced. He wanted the piercings gone so he could fucking focus, but they were pretty awesome. Alfred had wanted piercings himself at one point, but he was too much of a bitch when it came to needles. “They both do.”

Arthur grinned slightly. “Thanks.”

This was strange. Outside of the rehabilitation center, Arthur looked like a normal guy. He was pretty much acting like one, interacting with Alfred on a more casual level, and Alfred begrudgingly decided that he liked it.

“So, I doubt your friend is coming back anytime soon.” Arthur said after a brief moment. “I’m assuming he knows who I am?”

Alfred tensed, immediately taking back his conclusion that he enjoyed this more casual Arthur. The man had never alluded to the fact that they were soul mates before, so Alfred wasn’t sure what to expect. “Yeah, he does. I bitch a lot.”

“I can imagine.”

Alfred scowled. “What, you’re just going to suddenly start acknowledging what happened?”

Arthur shrugged, and the impassive look on his face was different and strangely intriguing. “I’m not on duty, so I don’t technically have to walk on egg shells around you. We’re just two men having a conversation at the library.”

“I think I liked you better when you were stiff and complacent.” Alfred said scathingly. “No more interaction outside of rehab, capisce?”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he nodded, but Alfred didn’t miss the subtle downturn of his mouth, the narrowing of his eyes. Alfred couldn’t shut up even if he wanted to. He wasn’t really in the mood to start a fight or make Arthur upset; but what else could he do to hide the fact that Arthur’s appearance and attitude were getting to him?

Alfred glared at the pages of his book for a few tense minutes before speaking again, almost whispering. “What did you do with it?”

Arthur didn’t reply right away. Maybe he was trying to figure out what Alfred was talking about or debating whether or not to tell him the truth. “It’s on my nightstand at home. I haven’t gotten around to doing anything with it.”

“I threw mine away.” Alfred admitted, and saying it out loud made him feel all the more guilty. “I wanted to forget.”

“I figured as much.” Arthur said, resigned, though he didn’t sound happy about it.

Alfred ghosted his fingers over the edges of the book he was holding, and while he wasn’t as panicked as he’d thought he would be if he and Arthur ever talked about what happened, he still wanted to bolt. Now that they were in a situation where they were somewhat equals, Alfred felt the compulsive need to tell Arthur what he’d been thinking about ever since yesterday.

He wanted to explain himself, voice all of his worries. On a basic level, he didn’t want to hurt anybody, least of all Arthur.

“I’m… sorry.”

Arthur tilted his head slightly, observing Alfred with a frown on his face. “What for?”

“For walking out on you.” Alfred clarified, lifting his head to look into Arthur’s eyes. The green of his irises seemed to be impossibly bright that close up, and Alfred swallowed, though he refused to look away. “That must’ve been embarrassing. When I get scared, I try to leave the situation. So… yeah. Sorry.”

“Was that what happened?” Arthur asked, eyebrows furrowing. He looked thoughtful and somewhat surprised. “You were scared?”

“A little.” Alfred said, annoyed that that was what Arthur was choosing to dwell on. The least he could do was accept the apology. Alfred didn’t do that often. “I don’t like being put on the spot.”

“Does anybody?” Arthur sighed. “Now I feel badly for being angry with you. If you were scared… well, it’s different. I sometimes forget that you’re just a kid.”

“Uh, get rid of that superiority complex. I’m only six years younger than you, dude. That hardly means I’m a kid.”

Arthur chuckled, leaning back against the bookshelf behind him as Alfred had done not too long ago. “I apologize.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, but he was starting to calm down a little. Arthur was talking about what occurred, but he wasn’t demanding anything of Alfred. They were only clearing the air, Alfred realized. Maybe they needed to in order to move on.

“I don’t really buy into the whole soul mate thing.” Alfred continued, and Arthur sobered up quickly. “I mean it’s nice to think about, but really unrealistic. So, it’s not you. And it’s not me. It’s the whole thing.”

“I can’t say I blame you. The whole thing is romanticized far too much. I’m sure you’re not the only one who has his doubts.”

“I feel like I am sometimes. Everyone treats me like I’m crazy for not – “ Alfred paused, heat rising to his face. “Um, I don’t know. Jumping you, I guess.”

Arthur smirked, shaking his head slightly so pieces of hair fell into his eyes, and Alfred wanted to bang his head against a wall. This was so not fair! “Well, I can’t vouch for your sanity, but I do understand. Your reasons are your own. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Alfred stared at Arthur desperately. Even now, the guy was accommodating. Arthur deserved more than some half-assed apology and evasive responses to his questions. “You deserve better.” Alfred muttered, shoulders slouching slightly. Arthur’s smirk faded away, his mouth popping open. “Your soul mate shouldn’t clam up at the sight of you. They should want to try. I’m not that person.”

Even if Alfred didn’t believe in the accuracy of the clocks, that didn’t mean he had the right to force his beliefs on other people. He was vocal about his opinions, sure, and he called people idiots, but he didn’t really mean it. Alfred envied them somewhat. He wished he was still ignorant, or at the very least blissful.

Hopefully Arthur understood that he’d been fucked over now. Best-case scenario, he would give up and move on, like Matt’s dad, like their mom. They would both be better off.

“I do believe in the clocks.” Arthur said suddenly, and Alfred’s breathing hitched. “I’ve seen more good come from them than bad. But understand this, Alfred. I think that the watches are… merely a suggestion. The best possible one. I won’t pretend that I know much about you aside from the fact that you’re foul-tempered, but I’m not surprised my watch went off the moment we made eye contact. I don’t think you are either.”

Alfred’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he scrambled to answer it, desperate for a distraction. “What?” He said, voice warbling horribly.

“You promised not to steal my car anymore.”

“I don’t keep the promises I make to you, you dipshit.”

Matt sighed in agitation. “Dad noticed it was gone. He’s about to file a report, you idiot.”

“Well, fuck.” Alfred said, and Arthur quirked an eyebrow. “Kiku and I are at the library. I’ll be home soon. Stall him or something.”

“You owe me for this.”

“I don’t owe you shit.” Alfred retorted before ending the call, stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his jacket. “Well, I gotta bounce. Stole my brother’s car and now I’m probably gonna be grounded.”

“I see.” Arthur said, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Impeccable timing, yes?”

Alfred didn’t respond, glaring at the large stack of books at his side. “Guess I should put all this back.”

“I’ll stick around and re-shelf them for you, if you want. I have to wait around for Peter anyway, and it sounds like you’re in a heap of trouble.”

“You got that right.” Alfred huffed, scrambling to his feet just as Arthur did the same. “And thanks. I still have to go find Kiku. Meddling prick.”

“Thank him for me.” Arthur said, and Alfred wondered if things would be different between them come Monday. Something had definitely changed, he just wasn’t sure what. “He made my job easier.”

“And what job would that be?” Alfred asked, giving Arthur an unimpressed look.

“Putting you at ease. Even if we aren’t together, what kind of soul mate would I be if I didn’t at least try to make you feel better?”

“Fuck off with that shit.” Alfred said, spinning around to stalk away. “You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“Worth a shot.” He heard Arthur say, and although Alfred didn’t say so, Arthur was kind of right.

Arthur could do a thousand times better, but after today, Alfred wasn’t surprised the Englishman was his best possible suggestion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates probably won't be as consistent as they were before. I've got finals coming up that I have to study for, so I'll be focused on those for a while. Plus, I know where I want this story to go and how it ends, but I'm still working out how to get to that point.

Come Monday, Alfred was a little… antsy.

He refused to call the squirming in his gut apprehension or even excitement. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd been grounded, just as he predicted, and hadn't been able to leave the house for the rest of the weekend; but whatever the reason, the fact still remained that Alfred couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Arthur Kirkland at the library.

The man had officially done it. He'd made Alfred unbearably curious without even trying – or maybe he had been, since Alfred was completely convinced that Arthur was a master of manipulation.

Arthur must have been doing something underhanded and dirty – God, he sounded like a twitchy conspiracy theorist – but there was no other explanation. Alfred was not a people person. He didn't socialize if he didn't have to, and aside from Kiku and Elizabeta – maybe even Matthew, but wasn't family supposed to inherently love one another? – Alfred had no friends.

At school, his classmates gave him a wide berth. They knew of his reputation for having a short fuse, and he was the last person anyone wanted to fuck with. Alfred kind of liked it that way, actually. Stupidity was a universal trait among teenagers. The less of them he had to interact with on a daily basis, the happier Alfred was.

As happy as he _could_ be, anyway.

Loathe as he was to admit it, his time spent confined to his house had given Alfred some time to think things through a little. Seeing Arthur outside of rehab had… opened his eyes, so to speak. It was actually kind of stupid, but for the first time since meeting him initially, Alfred had seen Arthur as a normal human being.

Before, Arthur was everything Alfred despised about the world come to life, conformity and unrealistic desires, lies and heartbreak. Arthur had been Matthew's anger, the truth about his parents' marriage, and Alfred's earlier depression. It all came surging back the moment their watches went off, and Alfred reacted in the only way he'd known how, lashing out and wreaking havoc wherever he went.

But Arthur was normal. He had a life outside of his job. He had piercings and a little brother, was kind enough to take said brother to the library when his parents had other things to do. Arthur had a personal life, one that seemed to be on the verge of collapse, if those stupid phone calls were anything to go by.

Arthur was human. They all had problems, and Arthur was no exception. He was just so good at hiding his true feelings that Alfred hadn't felt all that bad when he was being difficult initially. He wouldn't be surprised if Arthur secretly despised him for all the shit he'd pulled, regardless of what he'd said about suggestions at the library. Arthur didn't deserve it. It was bad enough that he'd ended up with Alfred F. Jones, perhaps the only person who vehemently despised the watches, as a soul mate.

Not to mention that Arthur didn't know a thing about Alfred's past, so it wasn't fair for the teenager to blame him and treat him horribly just because his childhood had been forever marred.

Alfred had realized all of that in a little over two days. It was frankly the hardest he'd thought about anything his entire life.

Yep. Arthur Kirkland had definitely done something. It wasn't often that Alfred actually put effort into things, let alone admitted to being in the wrong.

Alfred thought about all of that as he walked up to the building, waving distractedly at his mother over his shoulder as she called a goodbye to him. He'd managed to convince her not to come in with him. She actually hadn't put up much of a fuss, but her pale blue eyes had lit up for whatever reason.

He wasn't sure why she got so excited. As far as his mom knew, he was still adamant about treating Arthur as horribly as possible. Even so, Alfred was certain nothing life-changing was going to happen.

Just as Alfred was about to walk through the automatic doors, they abruptly slid open and a woman stalked out, barely avoiding running into Alfred as he scrambled to get out of her way. "Jesus fucking – " The teenager said through gritted teeth, but he kept it quiet; as quiet as he could manage anyway.

Extending his kindness to people other than Arthur obviously wasn't going to work out. The urge to call after her was almost maddening.

After taking a brief moment to compose himself, Alfred walked into the building. Ivan was actually the first person Alfred saw, but Arthur was standing close to him, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face as Ivan spoke to him in hushed tones. They quieted down as Alfred walked up, and his curiosity was peaked.

"What's up? You guys look pissed."

"It's nothing. Just a less than satisfied customer." Ivan replied, and Arthur grunted.

"Was it that lady who looked like some doucher ran over her dog?" Alfred asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "She almost bull-dozed me over in her desperation to get out of here. Not that I don't understand the urge but – " He forced himself to stop talking. Kindness. _Kindness._ "Um, what even happened?"

"Nothing." Ivan said, and while his expression was pleasant, there was a dangerous look in his eyes that left Alfred feeling unsettled. Arthur didn't look nearly as upset, just exhausted. "Adult stuff."

"I resent that." Alfred quipped, and Arthur sighed.

"That will do, Ivan. It's over and done with now."

Ivan nodded slowly, and while Alfred didn't feel as if he were involved in what had just happened anyway, the violet-eyed man cast him a fleeting glance before moving away.

Alfred watched him go before sliding his gaze back to Arthur. "Why do I feel like I'm missing something here?"

Arthur's shoulders jumped slightly, laughing without making a single noise. "You're looking into it too much."

Arthur turned to face him, and, feeling somewhat nostalgic, Alfred glanced down at the man's nose. Boy was he in for a nice surprise. "How come you're wearing the nose ring?"

Maybe it was just Alfred's imagination, but after he called attention to the small stud, Arthur had seemed less tired, if only slightly. The Englishman's mouth quirked, and while he wasn't really smiling, the incentive was there. "I've recently been told my piercings look cool, so I figured I would wear them more often. I've yet to receive a complaint."

Okay, so, Alfred had been right when he imagined that things would be different between the two of them after the library incident. Neither of them was going to call attention to it, but they wouldn't act like it didn't happen; and it was because of their conversation that Alfred allowed himself to regard Arthur with something that almost felt like… worry.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur blinked. "Pardon?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know. Are you well? Is your soul in good shape? Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"That won't be necessary." Arthur replied, shaking his head slightly. "It was a… long weekend, but I'm fine."

Alfred could definitely attest to that, though he doubted they were both exhausted for the exact same reason. "Well, good. Awesome. Let's get to the workout stuff."

Arthur gave him a strange look before heading off toward their usual area, leaving Alfred to follow after him slowly, more tired than he'd been when he arrived.

Any friendship or acquaintanceship that developed between them after all was said and done now had some of Alfred's support, but that obviously wasn't going to be enough to make this whole thing any easier. Maybe things were just better left as they were.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to my Demi Lovato playlist while I wrote the majority of this chapter, and it kinda hit me that "Give Your Heart a Break" fits this story scarily well; or at least it does to me, since I know how it ends. But I think you'd see the similarities if you listened to it.
> 
> And please keep in mind when you finish this chapter that Alfred has some very... self-destructive behaviors. Maybe you'll know what comes after this. And no, he is not going to run away from home.

Alfred's parents inevitably grew tired of waiting for him to change his mind about Arthur and took matters into their own hands.

They said they were going out to dinner to celebrate Matthew's acceptance into Washington University in St. Louis, and while Alfred already had plans to go to the park with Elizabeta – even though he was technically still grounded – he cancelled, figuring he should probably go support his brother.

Matt had decided to take a year off after high school to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and while he still wasn't sure, he at least wanted to get out from underneath their parents' roof.

Alfred didn't blame him. He would've flown the coop years ago, if only he'd been able.

Matthew went along with it. Maybe he hadn't known, though Alfred seriously doubted it. The four of them climbed into their mom's minivan after Alfred's dad got home from work and drove to some seafood restaurant that Alfred hadn't been to before. Never mind that he didn't like seafood and never had, but it wasn't about him anyway.

He stayed mostly quiet, tired after another day of rehab, and his parents didn't bother trying to coerce him into conversation for whatever reason. Alfred didn't understand until they arrived at the restaurant and went inside.

Elizabeta was still pretty pissed about being cancelled on, so Alfred was busy trying to console her as his parents walked past him. It wasn't until Matt uttered a soft, "Oh, shit," that Alfred pocketed his phone and looked up.

To be honest, Alfred wasn't all that upset when he noticed Arthur standing there. It had been a few days since Alfred's resolution to be nicer to the man, and they were friendly enough with one another. Alfred was still snippy – it was his personality, so he couldn't really help that – but Arthur didn't seem to be as bothered by it anymore. Sometimes he would actually laugh.

No, it wasn't Arthur's presence that set Alfred on edge – actually, Arthur was pretty distracting in that dark gray oxford with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but that was beside the point. It was the fact that he wasn't alone, was surrounded by people that resembled him fairly closely, especially the kid with the blue eyes that was clinging to Arthur's arm.

Alfred's jaw dropped when his mom rushed forward to embrace the eldest of the women standing with Arthur, and Matt reached out to take his hand, squeezing firmly.

Arthur had watched the two women exchange enthusiastic pleasantries through eyes narrowed with confusion, but then his eyes had shifted to Alfred's frozen form and they widened almost comically. _Oh, my God,_ the trainer mouthed, and Alfred realized with abject horror that they'd been set up.

Matthew refused to let go of his hand, which was probably a good thing since Alfred was nearly overcome by his compulsive urge to run. On any other day, Alfred would've pushed his brother away and told him off for treating him like a little kid, but Alfred was actually holding Matthew's hand just as tightly, if not tighter.

Some part of him refused to believe that his mom and dad would do this to him, but as he listened to his parents talk with Arthur's, it became apparent that the four of them had had this in the works for days. Arthur had seemed pissed off, silently fuming as they waited for their table to be cleared, and he kept shooting glares at the blonde-haired woman who Alfred assumed was the older man's mother.

"I don't want to do this." Alfred said, not having to keep his voice down too much since it was so loud in the building. He kept shooting nervous glances at the door, formulating a strategy to steal his mom's keys and take off before she even realized what had happened. "Matt, I can't fucking do this."

"You're fine, Al." Matthew replied, still holding onto Alfred's hand. "It'll be over before you know it."

"It hasn't even started!" Alfred hissed. "I fucking hate you all, this is fucking bullshit."

"I had absolutely nothing to do with this!" Matthew exclaimed, incredulous, and two of Arthur's brothers – were they even his brothers? Alfred was only guessing here – glanced over at them suspiciously. "Jesus, Al, I know better than to corner you like this, especially in public. I don't know what Mom and Robert are thinking."

"I'm gonna be sick." Alfred said as he and his brother followed after their parents and Arthur's family.

He ended up seated with Matthew on his right side and Arthur on his left. He didn't really mind, was glad to not be in the immediate vicinity of his parents. Alfred didn't trust himself to not do or say something stupid if he so much as looked at them, so he kept his eyes down, unseeing as he stared at the menu or his hands, lying prone in his lap.

The gathering went on without him. Alfred didn't speak and everyone seemed to know better than to engage him. He was dying to know how Arthur felt about all of this, although he could make a pretty educated guess. Over the past few days, the two of them had been interacting on a more personal level. Alfred was more comfortable with him now, and Arthur didn't look so tired all the time.

They'd been making progress. Things had been fine. Now it was all going to Hell.

It took Alfred nearly ten minutes to realize that something was off. Breathing wasn't easy. His chest was starting to ache; and when he glanced down at his hands, they were shaking. He couldn't get them to stop.

When Alfred was younger, he used to have panic attacks pretty regularly.

His dad used to say – whenever his mom and Matt weren't around – that Matthew probably played a huge factor in the development of the attacks. Alfred was always watching his step, overly conscious of everything he did for fear that his older brother would lash out at him.

After so many years, it got to a point where Alfred spent most of his waking hours under the influence of his own anxieties, and panic attacks were fairly common. Matt of course never cared, but, hey, whatever. Once Alfred learned the truth, he stopped caring about doing the right things, and the attacks stopped happening as much.

Sometimes Alfred became overwhelmed for whatever reason and felt the familiar fluttering in his stomach, the tightening of his throat, but it was never as bad as his childhood panic attacks had been, merely a twinge of anxiety that was easily controlled.

This was nothing like that.

"Alfred?" It wasn't Matthew talking. Alfred knew that much. The voice was hushed but very loud in Alfred's ear. "What's wrong?"

"I can't breathe." He whispered, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, though it did little to help. "I can't breathe."

There was a hand on his arm, holding fast as Alfred was helped to his feet. All the teenager's attention was focused on keeping his panic at bay, not wanting to have a meltdown in front of all these people; but his throat just kept getting tighter, his vision fuzzier, a losing battle.

"If you'll excuse us." Alfred realized then that Arthur was the one holding onto him, guiding him away from the table and the prying eyes that burned Alfred's skin. He was too disoriented to fight it, and he allowed Arthur to dictate their path, ending at the men's bathroom.

Everything was too bright, but Alfred kept a death grip on the sink when Arthur led him over to it, doubling over and breathing heavily, just beginning to salivate as his stomach started to churn.

"Can I _help_ you?" Arthur's voice snapped suddenly, and Alfred heard heavy footsteps followed by the bathroom door opening and closing.

"This is stupid." Alfred wheezed, beginning to push away from the sink. "I'm fine."

Arthur placed a hand on Alfred's left shoulder, gently pushing him forward again, but the touch vanished just as quickly as it had come. Alfred didn't try to move after that. "Don't just brush off a panic attack, Alfred."

"I've had them… had them before." Alfred ground out, dropping his head and squeezing his eyes shut. His chest was fucking killing him. He'd forgotten how his attacks made him feel like death was close at hand. "It's not – I know – "

"Can you breathe with me?" Alfred glanced up into the mirror and found Arthur staring at him intently, expression completely serious and eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I'll count for two seconds and then you'll breathe in through your nose. Another two and you'll breathe out through your mouth, like you're blowing up a balloon. Okay?"

Alfred was having trouble focusing, wanted his dad, but he made sense of Arthur's words enough to nod, still leaning over the sink. "Alright, breathe in." Arthur instructed, and Alfred complied. "One… two… breathe out."

They kept repeating that until Alfred's heart rate started to slow, and when his limbs stopped shaking, Alfred sighed, pushing away from the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his sweaty hair and red-rimmed eyes. Alfred hadn't even realized he'd been crying.

"Better?" Arthur asked quietly, and Alfred nodded, turning away from the mirror when he grew sick of his appearance.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and holding it there, fisting the dirty-blond strands tightly. "Goddammit."

"It's okay. You don't have to feel badly for panicking."

That wasn't the point. Alfred thought he'd been doing better. He hadn't had an attack in _years._ Ever since he met Arthur, he was starting to unravel. "I bet I looked like a fucking idiot." Alfred commented tonelessly, leaning back against the sink and letting his arm fall back to his side. Arthur mimicked his position. "Some impression I made on your family."

"They know what fear looks like." Arthur replied, and Alfred swallowed thickly. "My grandfather used to suffer from panic attacks when he was still alive. My brothers and I grew up around it."

"Is that why you knew what to do with me?"

"I wouldn't say I knew what to do with you. I just know how to properly handle someone overcome by their panic." Arthur turned his head to look at him, though Alfred kept his gaze on the floor. "I apologize for touching you. That's one of the worst things I could've possibly done."

"No, it's – " Alfred wasn't sure what to say. His mom had once told Matt not to touch Alfred if he started having an attack, because it might just set him off more. Apparently that was a big NO. He hadn't necessarily minded when Arthur touched his shoulder. It had been… comforting, somewhat, but like Hell he was going to say that. "It's fine."

They fell into silence. With the roaring in his ears gone, Alfred could hear the sounds of the restaurant, life continuing just outside the door. Water dripped from the tap behind him every six seconds. "Does that happen to you often?" Arthur asked eventually. "Or did this just have to do with our… circumstances?"

Alfred shrugged his right shoulder. "Used to happen more when I was a kid. And like I said before. I don't like being put on the spot."

"I should've known." Arthur said, almost to himself. "My family never gets together unless it's a holiday. Mum was so insistent, too."

"You guys aren't close?"

"Well," Arthur paused. This was probably the most intimate conversation they'd ever shared. "My parents married young. They wanted one son and ended up with five. By the time I was born, Mum and Dad were tired. It can't be helped."

Alfred blinked, finally lifting his head to glance over at Arthur. Even if he hadn't been entirely with it before, Alfred had noticed that aside from Peter, Arthur didn't really acknowledge his other brothers. It made him feel… weird. He did know how it felt to be ignored by his older brother, but Matt wasn't like that anymore. They were best friends. Matthew had held Alfred's hand in public, for Christ's sake, and they were nineteen and seventeen years old!

He thought about those phone calls. Arthur's ever tired expression at rehab. Alfred had tried to be friendly but… he didn't know a thing about Arthur, did he?

Arthur seemed to notice that Alfred was staring at him, and when their gazes locked, Alfred thought he could feel another panic attack coming on; but his chest wasn't nearly as heavy as it had been previously. No, this was another feeling entirely.

"Let's get out of here." Alfred found himself saying, voice much rougher than he'd been expecting it to be.

Arthur cocked his head slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yup." Alfred said loudly, stepping away from the sink if only to put some distance between himself and Arthur. "There's no way I'm going back there. Just take me home before I murder someone."

Arthur smirked, fishing around in the pocket of his slacks, presumably for his car keys. "Gladly."

As the two of them sneaked out of the restaurant, Alfred felt a little guilty for leaving without so much as a word to his brother. Matt was most likely out of his mind with worry; it was a wonder he hadn't followed them to the bathroom in the first place.

"I should probably tell Matthew we left." Alfred said once they were safely inside Arthur's car, a red Camry with beige leather seats that the teenager found himself falling in love with.

"I'm sure they'll all figure it out soon if they haven't already." Arthur huffed as he pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot. Alfred noted that he wasn't wearing his seat belt. "Where am I going exactly?"

Alfred glanced out the window, took in his surroundings. He hadn't really paid attention to where they were going when they left the house earlier. "Uh, go down to seventeenth and take a right on Westridge. I'll guide you from there."

Normally driving with people he wasn't exactly comfortable with made Alfred nervous. He wasn't going to entrust his life to just anybody, after all. Maybe he was too exhausted after what had happened to care much; or maybe it was the fact that he and Arthur had just _gone_ through something together that made Alfred more comfortable.

Alfred sighed heavily, sinking down into his seat. He was over thinking this _way_ too much.

"You okay over there?" Arthur asked, and Alfred felt his mouth quirk slightly.

"As okay as I'll ever be, I guess. I wish my parents would just leave me the fuck alone about you."

"I can't blame them for… trying." Arthur said at length. "I expect that they want what's best for you. But there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. What happened back there was definitely one of those lines."

As Arthur rolled to a stop at a four-way intersection, Alfred found himself seriously contemplating whether or not to tell Arthur why his mom and dad were pushing as hard as they were. It would've made things easier, cleared the air a little, but Alfred couldn't find the will to say anything.

It had never been easy to talk about. Even now, the only person who he felt comfortable enough to speak to about what happened was Kiku. They were life companions, so of course they didn't bother keeping secrets. He'd still yet to tell Elizabeta, who had only entered their group after they started high school, after Alfred's changing period.

As close as he and Arthur had become in the past week or so, Alfred wasn't ready to spill everything just yet, if ever.

"Let's play a game."

Arthur didn't say anything for an extremely drawn out moment. "You want… to play a game."

"You bet your ass I do." Alfred said, sitting up straighter. "Twenty Questions. Ask me anything too personal and I'll exit the vehicle, even if it's moving. _Especially_ if it's moving."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"I'll start." Alfred said, barely managing to stifle a laugh. "What's your favorite color?"

"What a terribly generic – "

"Answer it, Kirkland!"

Arthur released a short huff of air. "Orange."

"That's my _least_ favorite color, so strike one." Alfred commented, pleased that he'd at least found the answer to one of Elizabeta's questions. "Your turn."

"Alright." Arthur began, the pointer finger of his right hand tapping against the steering wheel as he contemplated what to say. "What's your favorite subject in school?"

Alfred frowned. "I don't think I have a favorite. I pay attention in English, so I guess my answer is English. Oh, and I like lunch. 'Kay, my turn. Do you have a best friend?"

"I do." Arthur said, clearly amused. Alfred had said on more than five occasions that the trainer was probably too socially awkward to find and keep any friends. "Gilbert's been a pain in my arse since we were teenagers."

"Gilbert, huh?" Alfred echoed, staring intently out the window. He watched the cars pass by, the people jogging on the sidewalk. "His last name wouldn't happen to be Beilschmidt, would it?

"Actually, it is. Do you know him?"

Alfred snorted. "Well, I've heard _of_ him. I know his brother Ludwig. He's in my debate class. We don't see eye to eye."

"Don't tell me that _you're_ the kid West always complains about." Alfred scowled as Arthur burst out laughing. "Oh, this is priceless. What a small fucking world."

"And it just keeps getting smaller." Alfred commented, turning his head to glance over at Arthur. The green-eyed man didn't really laugh much. "Can we get back to the game, please?"

"I _will_ be bringing this up to him later." Arthur said smugly, and Alfred rolled his eyes. He could just imagine it, Arthur walking up to that stickler Ludwig and informing him that Arthur's soul mate was the kid who he often found himself pitted against in debate class. Alfred and Ludwig weren't necessarily enemies or even all that mean to one another. They just had conflicting viewpoints on a lot of things. "Okay, what do you want to do after high school?"

"I don't know. Thinking about the future makes me upset, so I don't do it much." Mostly because it was so uncertain. Alfred would never say as much, but the prospect of spending his life alone was a terrifying one. "Which of your brothers is your favorite?"

"Peter." Arthur said instantly, making a sharp turn on 17th and Westridge, just as Alfred had previously instructed. The abruptness of the maneuver convinced Alfred that Arthur had been driving aimlessly, distracted by their little game. "Maybe it's because I helped raise him, but he's always been my favorite. He's the least bratty of the bunch."

"He was quiet." Alfred mused, thinking back to their brief get together. Peter had been seated across from Alfred. He hadn't spoken much, but Alfred had noticed the kid sneaking glances at him every so often when he thought Alfred wasn't paying attention.

"Don't let him deceive you. He's the brat that will wait until you're asleep and put your hand in warm water just to watch the show."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"I believe it's my turn to ask the questions." Arthur said evasively, and Alfred smirked. "Why is it that you never laugh?"

Alfred's amusement faded away. "Excuse me?"

"Are you going to jump out of the car?" Arthur asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to gauge Alfred's reaction, somewhat concerned. "I'm genuinely curious. You seem to find everything amusing, if not beneath you, but I've never heard you laugh before."

"Well." What the fuck could Alfred say but the truth? This had been his idea, after all. A stupid one, but that was neither here nor there. The answer wasn't as painful as it was embarrassing. "I don't laugh because… it's really obnoxious."

Arthur's brow furrowed, though he didn't take his eyes off the road again. "You mean, the idea of laughing is obnoxious?"

"No, I'm talking about my legit laugh. It's super obnoxious." Alfred winced. "It's like… uninhibited."

"Uninhibited." Arthur echoed. Something about his tone of voice told Alfred that it was the wrong thing to say. Perhaps it was the right thing, actually, depending on how one looked at it. "Now I'm curious."

"Trust me, I'm doing the world a favor by keeping it under wraps." Alfred said. "I used to get the _weirdest_ looks from people. Not that I care what anyone else thinks. I guess I'm saving my own ears at this point. Oh, turn left here! After that, my street's a couple blocks away."

Arthur complied, his motions fluid as he turned the wheel. Alfred stared at the man's hands for whatever reason. "I _will_ get you to laugh before the end of the summer." Arthur said seriously, and Alfred shot him an incredulous look. "I can tell you're staring at me, Alfred. I feel personally challenged."

"Try all you want, it's not gonna work." Alfred said, feeling somewhat sympathetic. His friends – all two of them – and family had been trying to coerce him into letting his guard down for years now. There was no limit to the stunts they would pull. If they couldn't do it, how could Arthur? Alfred's poker face was pretty fucking impeccable at this point. He wasn't going to crack for just anybody. "I mean, I still laugh, just not like that. I don't think I have since I was fourteen."

"All the more reason to try and coax it out of you!" Arthur exclaimed, and, small though it was, Alfred felt a rush of affection for him. Arthur wasn't really all that bad. If only it weren't for their unfortunate circumstances.

"Well, good luck, dude." Alfred chuckled, somewhat taunting Arthur with the notion of some unencumbered laugh that the man was apparently fascinated with. "Okay, turn here. My house is the fourth one on the right."

Alfred felt a buzzing in pocket, and against his better judgment, he pulled out his cell phone while Arthur scanned the row of houses. He frowned down at the screen for a few seconds before reluctantly answering it. "… Hello?"

"Are you okay? Did you have to go to the hospital?" Matt really did worry too much. Alfred hadn't had to go to the hospital because of his panic attacks since the first time one occurred, when he didn't know what was happening and he'd been convinced he was dying.

"No." Alfred replied, tired of the conversation already. "It didn't come to that. I'm fine."

Matthew breathed out a sigh that Alfred barely heard. His older brother was obviously still in the restaurant what with all the background noise. Had they waited for them to come back? "Thank God. Where are you, then?"

"Arthur took me home." Alfred said, glancing over at his companion when Arthur pulled into his driveway, putting the car in park and returning Alfred's look. "The whole thing was beneath us."

Arthur rolled his eyes as Matt said, "You trust him enough to let him know where we live?"

"Does that fucking bother you?"

"No, Al, I just – " Matt paused for a moment. "Hey, Mom wants to talk to you."

Alfred ended the call.

"Everything okay?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah." Alfred said, considered his own words, and then shook his head. "Actually, no. But that's a given. Nothing's ever okay."

Arthur seemed at a loss, thrown by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "That's – "

"I don't mean to be that guy," Alfred started as he unbuckled his own seat belt and reached out to open the car door, "but you should wear your seat belt. Accidents happen."

Alfred went inside, his somewhat content mood ruined in its entirety. With his panic gone and Arthur no longer at hand, Alfred's anger finally took control; and he let it, reveled in the easy and familiar.

His parents fucking knew that he'd suffered from panic attacks when he was younger. Just because they didn't happen as often didn't mean they were gone forever. Alfred had opened up to Arthur of his own accord, but still, his parents just kept pushing and pushing and _pushing._

Alfred could agree to stay in contact with Arthur all his life, but if they weren't "together," it would never be good enough.

He ignored multiple calls to his cell phone within the next hour, answering only one. All he knew was that when his family decided to return home, he'd already be gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred takes one step forward and then five thousand steps back. I'm simply dying to get him and Arthur together, but obviously it's going to take a lot to make Alfred realize that, hey, the part of your soul that you lost is waiting for you to get your fucking shit together! Oops, I've said too much. Although most if not all of you know where this is heading anyway!
> 
> Alfred/Christian (Australia) in this chapter.

Elizabeta looked horribly affronted once Alfred finished recounting the atrocities of his day, apparently no longer miffed at having been ditched. He couldn't see her eyes behind her giant ass sunglasses, but her frown was more telling than anything.

"Your parents really did that to you?" She asked, almost in disbelief. She'd stopped eating her ice cream whereas Alfred was shoveling his into his mouth with vigor, fired up and unsure of how to express it but to eat as violently as possible. "They didn't even give you a heads up?"

"Didn't say a fucking word." Alfred fumed, and while the old couple sitting at the table next to them gave him odd looks, he ignored them.

Elizabeta had called him while he was still home to demand why his correspondence had suddenly ended. Wanting to be anywhere but his house, he'd asked if she wanted to go out and do something, anything. Sounding confused, Elizabeta had agreed, and Alfred had gone to pick her up after borrowing money from his parents' "secret" stash and stealing his brother's car again. Really, when would Matt learn?

He'd told her everything, from start to finish. He'd even disclosed the reason behind his dislike of the soul mate watches, mostly because Alfred was too infuriated to even think about censoring himself. Elizabeta had listened dutifully, nodding along and making small noises of sympathy or agreement when it was appropriate. It was astounding, since listening had never really been her forte.

"If Arthur hadn't agreed to take me home, I don't know what I would've done." Alfred said. "Probably would've just stayed in the bathroom until my parents gave up and agreed to leave."

"Jesus H. Christ." Elizabeta sighed, picking up her plastic spoon and beginning to eat her ice cream again. It was kind of weird, being there without Kiku. The three of them did almost everything together – aside from the sacred library trip. It was always the same whenever they came to this place in the summer. Kiku had chocolate, Elizabeta cake batter, and Alfred strawberry. The empty chair at their table was glaringly obvious to Alfred. He just couldn't ignore it. "What a fucking mess."

"Tell me about it." Alfred muttered, sucking on his spoon. A cool breeze bore down on them, making the skin on the back of Alfred's neck, damp with sweat, tingle slightly. "I'm still supposed to be grounded, you know. I'm gonna get my ass beat whenever I decide to go back."

"Yeah, about that. What are you going to do? Stay at Kiku's for a day or two?"

Alfred sighed, slumping forward over the table and resting his forehead on his arm. "I texted him a Code Blue, so he knows to say that I'm there if my parents call looking for me. I told Matt I was staying with Kiku, but I turned my phone off before he responded. But I don't know. I don't want to bother Kiku with this."

Elizabeta snorted. "Why? Our problems are his and vice versa. It's called being friends."

"I know, it's just that he told me his parents are acting weird."

"Emi and Kouta acting weird? Never thought I'd see the day." Elizabeta drawled, watching a drop of liquidated ice cream fall from her spoon. Alfred couldn't help but smirk. Kiku's parents weren't all that different from most American parents. There was the language barrier and all – which Alfred would admit to exploiting a few times – but they were cool people. "But if Kiku's worried, it must be serious."

"Exactly. So, I don't want to disturb the delicate balance or whatever by dragging my ass and emotional baggage over there. Hope you don't mind, but I'll probably be bumming on your couch tonight."

Elizabeta shrugged. "Whatever works. My mom won't mind. Pretty sure she wants to bone you anyway."

"Well, who wouldn't? I ooze sex appeal." Alfred said, lifting his head. He couldn't seem to settle down. He'd had fights with his parents before over numerous things, but this particular one felt like it would matter years from now. Like Arthur had said. They overstepped their boundaries. "Maybe I can ask her for some more pointers on the whole 'Single Life in a Society Ruled By Couples' shtick."

"Like she'd have any substantial advice." Elizabeta scoffed. "As the product of a one night stand, listen to me when I say that my mother has no idea what she's doing."

Bianka Héderváry certainly wasn't going to win any Mother of the Year awards, but Alfred had always sort of liked her, if only because he appreciated her understanding of the whole soul mate thing.

"This thing isn't set to go off until I'm fifty-four." Bianka told him and Kiku the summer before their second year of high school. She'd been lounging on the couch when they went over there to swim in the pool they had in their backyard, and Bianka had recounted her philosophies to them while Elizabeta was upstairs changing into her swimsuit. "Fifteen more years to go, boys. Might as well have some fun while I wait."

Kiku had been relatively horrified, all too happy to make his escape when Elizabeta returned from her bedroom, but Alfred had been amused, if not pleased. As awful as it was to force her kid to watch so many men come and go from their lives, Bianka loved Elizabeta more than anything, and Elizabeta returned the sentiment no matter how much she bitched.

Even if Bianka was just biding her time before "The One" finally came along, at least she wasn't remaining stagnant. Alfred could relate to that at least, having done his fair share of sleeping around.

A shadow fell over their table then, and Alfred had half a mind to tell whomever it was to fuck off until Elizabeta whipped off her sunglasses and dialed up the charm, fake and threatening as it was. "Well, hel- _lo._ " She was practically purring. Definitely her mother's daughter. "To what do we owe this great pleasure, Mister Harris?"

Alfred stiffened slightly. Christian Harris. This day just kept getting better.

"Just saw you both and thought I'd come over and say hi." His voice was as smooth as ever, warm and inviting with that stupid fucking Australian accent that had caught Alfred's attention in the first place. "It's been a while."

"We heard you went home to the wallabies and dingoes." Alfred said tonelessly, stabbing at his ice cream. He was in no mood to be toyed with. "Oh, how I wish you'd stayed there."

"Well, you haven't changed a bit, have you, Al?" Christian said, and when Alfred glanced up, the man was shooting him a small smile. "Still as inviting as ever."

"Isn't he though?" Elizabeta drawled, reaching across the table to pat Alfred's hand. Comfort. A reassurance that he wasn't alone. "Alfie's just our little charmer. That will never change." Alfred forced a smile, and even if he fucking hated Christian's guts, his body was still throbbing. "He does have a good point, though." Elizabeta continued. "What are you doing back here? Didn't you head back to Aussie after you graduated?"

"For a little while. I had some… unfinished business here." Christian replied, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. He'd always had that habit, rubbing or scratching some part of his neck or shoulder area when he was uncomfortable. It was of little comfort to know that he was feeling just as awkward as Alfred, if not more so. "Family stuff."

"Family stuff." Elizabeta repeated, swinging her sunglasses back and forth in her hand slowly. "Interesting."

Alfred rested his chin in the palm of his hand, glaring off in the direction of the main street, watching the cars drive by. His life seemed like a plot to some shitty ass romance novel. First Alfred was forced into meeting his soul mate's family, and then he just randomly ran into the guy who he lost his virginity to when the guy was supposed to be a goddamn ocean away!

The blue-eyed teenager wasn't one to look back, but he did have his regrets, and Christian was his biggest.

"You met your soul mate?" Christian was staring at the pale strip of skin on Alfred's wrist. As much as Alfred wanted to deny it, the way the man's green eyes darkened slightly with jealousy made his blood sing. "Congratulations."

"Oh, he's a dream." Elizabeta sighed, wistful in her tone and expression. "He's like, six years older than Al, he's British, _and_ he's a working man. A physical therapist. That's how they met. Right, Alfred?"

Alfred sniffed, realizing for the first time that Christian and Arthur had some similarities. Their eyes were both green for one thing, though Arthur's were far brighter than anything Christian could ever manage. Both men had the same thick eyebrows, which was probably why Alfred hadn't been all up in arms over Arthur's when he first saw him, having had experience with similar ones.

Looking at Christian, Alfred could tell he was taller than Arthur, thicker as well, so their eye color and eyebrow thickness was where the similarities ended, and yet he continued to compare; and the more Alfred thought about it, his earlier desire began to dissipate. He couldn't figure out why. "Yup." Alfred said, frowning to himself. "That's Arthur."

The three of them were silent for a time before Christian spoke up again. "Well, Al, I'd actually like to catch up with you if that's okay. I'm staying with a buddy of mine if you want to drop by later. I could give you the address."

"No, I've got family – stuff." Alfred said immediately. What the fuck was Christian even thinking? Surely he remembered Alfred's threat to rip off his balls if the Australian so much as _breathed_ in Alfred's direction ever again. "So, thanks, but no thanks."

It was an obvious dismissal, and thankfully Christian took the hint, saying a quick goodbye before scurrying off like a wounded dog toward the line to get ice cream that just kept getting longer. Alfred watched him, suspicious and somewhat affronted.

He wasn't stupid. He knew when someone was trying to hit on him, and while Christian hadn't been flirting in the least, he'd still had some goal in mind. Alfred wasn't one to engage in a nostalgic fuck, especially since he didn't form attachments nor did he find anyone he'd slept with particularly exceptional.

But… Christian wasn't an easy person to forget. They'd been friendly once, but then they'd entered some weird friends with benefits relationship and things went completely downhill. They'd been fifteen and sixteen when they had sex for the first time in the back of Matt's Buick, which his older brother still didn't know about.

Alfred hadn't been totally sure if he wanted to go through with it, and Christian had been so understanding that Alfred got frustrated for being such a pansy and essentially demanded to be fucked. It hadn't been good by any means. They'd both been terribly inexperienced and awkward back then, coming together for a multitude of god-awful reasons, but there was no taking back the fact that they'd been one another's firsts. Alfred certainly couldn't forget it.

Their arrangement had continued for a few months before everything went south. Alfred didn't really remember what happened when he tried to think about it, having subconsciously blocked it all out. Something to do with bets and pictures. A few people had ended up bloody by the end of the whole ordeal, Alfred and Elizabeta the ones with bruised knuckles while Kiku came up with believable alibis, and Alfred and Christian hadn't spoken again.

It only served to make Alfred more cautious of people. No one wanted him seriously. They wanted sex, and Alfred delivered since his reputation was ruined anyway. There would always be people like Bianka who believed in the clocks but didn't want to wait; and in turn, there were those like Alfred who were willing to alleviate their boredom in the meantime.

Alfred scowled, meeting Elizabeta's concerned stare. This was ridiculous. He didn't get butt hurt when random guys came to him for no-strings-attached sex. He hadn't even been all that concerned about what Christian's presence could mean until Elizabeta mentioned Arthur. His timer going off didn't change a damn thing.

Alfred didn't owe Arthur anything, and he wasn't about to turn into some prude for him.

Feeling that he had something to prove, Alfred stood up so abruptly that he knocked over his chair, red plastic hitting the concrete below with a dull noise. He stalked away from the table, leaving Elizabeta on her own to sidle up next to Christian, ignoring the indignant responses he received from the other people in line behind them.

"You wanted something." Alfred said scathingly, and Christian jumped. "What was it? A romp for old time's sake?"

"Something like that." Christian admitted. He'd never been the sharpest tool in the shed. "But if you met your soul mate, then – "

"You of all people know I don't buy into that shit, Chris." Alfred said quietly, allowing his hand to purposefully brush against Christian's. The older man's breathing turned shallow. Apparently he hadn't forgotten either. "If my memory's accurate, you still have ten years left until your leash is yanked. Either reacquaint yourself with your hand and some tissues or get what you came here for."

"I came for ice cream, actually." Christian said after clearing his throat. He was still a few inches taller than Alfred, and Christian had to look down to meet Alfred's azure stare. The older man smiled. "But I suppose luck is on our side today."

Alfred smirked. It looked as if he wouldn't be bumming off Elizabeta after all. "I suppose so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Yes, Alfred, because having somewhat forced sex is totally gonna take your mind off Arthur. Good thinking. Claps for you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but no smut scene. I've only written one for another fic, and I remember it was very difficult. Not to mention I refuse to write Alfred being intimate with someone other than Arthur. I'll allude to it of course, but not write it. Anyway, thanks for continuing to be supportive! I can say that Alfred's starting to wear down, but nothing's ever that simple.
> 
> More Al/Christian at the beginning, I guess. Nothing really happens.

It was kind of amazing how hollow a person could feel.

That was the first thought Alfred had when he woke up. He always felt poetic the morning after a random tryst, and while sleeping with Christian hadn't exactly been random, Alfred still felt dazed, not entirely there.

He was on his back in bed, bed sheets low on his hips and Christian's arm heavy on his stomach. The older man was on his side next to Alfred, curled around him and breathing heavily against his neck, and his grip only tightened when Alfred tried to move.

The teenager sighed, lifting a hand to his face and rubbing, stiff and sticky and incredibly sore. It wasn't often that Alfred offered to bottom, but he hadn't exactly been all that into it last night, thinking a million different thoughts even as Christian went down on him. Everything had almost been a chore, not at all the ultimate distraction Alfred had been seeking.

He looked to the ceiling, watching the dust float through beams of light streaming in through the partially opened blinds. Come to think of it, Alfred wasn't sure where he was or how to get home from here. His mind was blank. He couldn't think.

Christian snorted slightly in his sleep, and Alfred blinked sluggishly, able to feel a headache coming on. What exactly had he been trying to achieve by ditching Elizabeta for Christian? Certainly it wasn't this, indifference and confusion and an uncomfortably full bladder.

A buzzing on the bedside table caught Alfred's attention, and he craned his neck, realizing after a few seconds that it was his phone. Being mindful to not wake Christian, Alfred stretched out his arm, straining horribly before he was able to slide his phone closer and then pick it up.

No one was trying to call him as he'd thought initially, but he did have a multitude of voice mails and text messages from the night before. Having nothing better to do, he put the phone to his ear and started to listen.

The first was from Matt. _"Hey, Al. You should probably start answering your phone before Mom convinces Robert to put out a missing persons notice. I told her you're probably just blowing off steam, but you know how she gets. I know you told me you're at Kiku's, but for some reason, I don't believe you. I won't tell Mom but… just… pick up the phone, okay?"_

The second was from his mom. _"Alfred, this is your mother. I know you're upset about what happened earlier, and I want you to come home so your father and I can sit down and have a discussion with you about this. You can't keep acting out when something doesn't go your way. I am sorry for lying to you, honey. I thought it was the best thing to do at the time. I've only ever wanted what's best for you... "_

One from his dad. _"Al, it's Dad. I know you're expecting me to count off a million different ways that your mother and I are going to kill you when you get home, but that really isn't important. I know you had a panic attack at the restaurant earlier, and I'm so sorry for putting you in that situation when it's supposed to be my job to protect you. I trust that Mr. Kirkland was telling us the truth when he told us he dropped you off at home and then left. Wherever you are, Al, make sure to stay safe. We'll be here waiting for you."_

One from Kiku. _"Elizabeta just called in hysterics because apparently you went off with Christian Harris to some undisclosed location. I don't know what's going on, but don't do anything stupid, okay? Christian really hurt you, and I know you didn't forget about that so easily, Alfred. Please don't put yourself in a situation that you're not really comfortable with. Don't let anyone get the better of you. I'm only a phone call away if you need me."_

" _Alfred, I'm freaking out here."_ By the time he got to Elizabeta's message, Alfred's chest was constricting horribly. That wasn't something he was used to experiencing on the morning after. _"I know Christian wanted something, and I know you don't typically say no, but what the fuck? Are you okay? Is there something going on? You haven't been acting all that different since you met Arthur, but now I'm starting to wonder. This is a whole new level of crazy, baby."_

Alfred was ashamed as he listened to Elizabeta's frenzied goodbye. He'd tumbled into bed with some guy he didn't even like just because he was upset. He'd wanted to hurt everyone, Arthur, his parents and Matt, and even Elizabeta and Kiku to some degree, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe everything Alfred had done since high school began was just part of some elaborate scheme to sabotage himself.

It made sense. Alfred had never really enjoyed sex and to this day still wasn't sure why he engaged in it so often. Sure, the instant gratification aspect was nice, but once it was over, Alfred just wanted to throw up. He'd always felt dirty and low, used in the worst possible way, but that was nothing new. It was like how he'd felt when Matthew told him the truth with contempt in his eyes.

To be honest, that feeling had never completely gone away.

" _Somehow I'm positive this is normal for you."_

Alfred stiffened, mouth popping open as Christian tightened his grip on him again, disturbed by his movement. It was odd, hearing his soul mate's voice when he was in bed with some other guy. Alfred felt exposed, caught. How did Arthur even get his number?

" _Disappearing without a word and sending your mum into a panic, that is."_ Arthur went on, and everything in the background on his end was silent. Not a rustle or whisper. Just his voice. _"She phoned and asked me to try and contact you. As if you'd answer if I did. But it's worth a shot, I suppose. You do enjoy surprising me."_

Alfred wasn't sure what was going on. Arthur's voice was shaking. _"What you said earlier, about nothing ever being fine, what did you mean by that? Frankly, that disturbed me so deeply I almost followed you inside your house, but I figured you wouldn't appreciate that and just left you alone. If something bad happens to you, however, I'll feel personally responsible."_

Did this constitute as a bad thing? Arthur would definitely think so if he knew, but it wasn't like Alfred was going to tell him when he saw him again. He already felt guilty enough as is, and the two of them weren't even together, so it wasn't like Alfred was cheating or anything.

But Alfred had cheated before; and it felt a lot like this.

" _I really hope you're okay. I do remember being your age, and if you're anything like I was, you're probably doing something destructive or have already done it. If that's the case, it doesn't make you a bad person. So long as you didn't do something unspeakable, you can leave anything behind you."_ Arthur paused, and while his voice wasn't as shaky as it had been before, Alfred could still feel the other man's anxiety. " _If you need me to come get you, just phone this number. Even if it's two in the morning, I_ will _come find you, Alfred."_

Two in the morning, huh? Alfred glanced over at the bedside table again, peering over at the glowing red numbers without the help of his glasses or contacts. He hardly used either, was used to everything being slightly distorted, and while his eyesight wasn't terrible, it was a struggle.

Alfred managed to make out the numbers "12:27."

He was late for rehab.

* * *

 

Alfred pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center nearly fifty minutes after his appointment was supposed to start, but he didn't really care. He didn't feel like going home just yet, and after listening to the man's voice mail, he felt some inane urge to be as close to Arthur as possible, whatever that could mean.

He exited the car with some difficulty, having dressed in a hurry and aggravated his sore muscles even more than they already were. He hadn't bothered to tell Christian he was leaving or even leave a note. Alfred was hell-bent on avoiding Christian for the rest of his life. He didn't exactly blame the Australian for his own lack of self-control, but Christian randomly showing up in the midst of Alfred's crisis hadn't helped matters at all.

Walking into that building, Alfred felt as if he were going to his execution. Arthur was probably going to be pissed, especially considering that he was paid by the hour; but Arthur was nowhere in sight when Alfred came in. Alfred did a quick sweep of the area before heading over to the receptionist's desk.

For all he'd noticed her presence in the days he'd spent here, Alfred had never spoken to her, though she looked up and smiled warmly when Alfred came to a stop at the counter. "Do you know where Arthur is?" He asked.

She nodded, leaning back in her chair and pointing down the hall that was to her right and Alfred's left. "Break room, third door on the left."

Alfred thanked her quickly, wondering if normal patrons were allowed to be where she was directing him. Then again, she probably knew by now what Alfred was to Arthur and therefore was bending the rules for them. Alfred was too tired to put up a fuss.

The door did have an "Employees Only" sign on it, but Alfred pushed it open regardless, though he only stood in the doorway. Arthur was lying on the small sofa at the far end of the room, phone pressed to his ear and arm draped over his eyes.

"Hold on a second, Gil." Arthur said before shifting the phone's receiver away from his mouth slightly. "I believe I said I didn't want to be disturbed, Angie. Or Ivan. Whoever you are."

"Neither." Alfred said, and Arthur bolted upright on the couch. Their eyes met, and Alfred breathed a huge sigh. "It's just me."

"Just you." Arthur echoed, voice harsh, and he swung his legs around to sit normally. "I have to go, Gilbert."

The green-eyed trainer snapped his phone shut, and Alfred realized for the first time that Arthur had a flip-phone. He wasn't sure why that was important, but it seemed somewhat charming, especially when everyone and their mother had smart phones of some kind.

"Sorry, I didn't answer your call." Alfred went on as Arthur stood up. "I turned my phone off. I spent the night at a friend's house. Well, my ex-boyfriend's friend's house, but you get the picture. I'm not actually in the mood to do any work today, I just came to tell you – "

For the first time since the other day, everything was warm. Alfred blinked and realized that Arthur was hugging him tightly, much too tight. Alfred expected that his parents would hug him whenever he went back home, but he'd never imagined this.

"Do you have any idea how bloody terrified I was?" Arthur exploded, pushing Alfred away suddenly. He didn't remove his hands from Alfred's shoulders, but his eyes were blazing with anger when Alfred glanced up. "You've done a lot of ridiculous things, but this is by far the most moronic, selfish – "

Alfred could only stare as Arthur continued to rant, scolding him like he probably would Peter or something, though Alfred probably deserved it. He hadn't really been thinking clearly yesterday.

But the more he watched, the more Alfred learned. Arthur didn't look like he'd slept much. His hair was a mess and he wasn't all that steady on his feet either. For a split second, Alfred wanted to jump into Arthur, to give the man what he'd been denied the moment their watches went off and then some.

Arthur had no idea how desperately Alfred wanted to love and be loved. It was fucking maddening, and it was why he'd made a hobby out of sleeping around; but that wasn't going to work anymore, not after Arthur. He'd sounded so lost in his voice mail, concerned and caring, but weak. Would Christian do that? Would any of the guys Alfred had slept with?

Probably not. Arthur wasn't like the others. He was different, special. Arthur was Alfred's soul mate.

But the moment passed. Last night had proved to Alfred that he wasn't capable of loving anybody in that way, at least not yet. Arthur didn't deserve any half-measures, and while he'd finally managed to win the teenager over, Alfred wouldn't say anything for now.

Not to say it wasn't going to be difficult. Arthur was just standing there yelling at him and Alfred _still_ wanted to kiss him to shut him up. Granted, this was still at the level of a schoolboy crush, but Alfred believed that it would develop into more than that, eventually, whenever he decided to pull himself together after nearly four years of a downward spiral.

Arthur suddenly hugged him again, flustered and relieved but obviously angry beyond belief, and Alfred laughed – not the kind Arthur wanted to hear but a laugh all the same – and hugged the man in return.

He didn't feel quite as empty anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation for a week, so I wanted to post the next chapter before I left so you guys at least have something to tide you over. I think we're getting down to the wire here. There isn't much else I want/need to cover. And rest assured, the questions most of you have will be answered before everything's said and done!

Alfred had a special dislike of family dinners. They had the most uncomfortable air about them, and he generally despised being forced to spend quality time with his parents and brother.

Not to say that he wished they'd leave him alone indefinitely. If he was honest with himself, Alfred would admit that he missed the way things had been when he was a kid. As he and Matt got older, everything their family did together became strained, especially considering that Alfred was intent on exposing every fake aspect of their lives.

They hadn't sat down and had dinner as a family since Alfred and Arthur met. The boys would excuse themselves to their rooms to eat alone or Matt would bring home McDonald's or something after work. His mom generally disliked cooking, didn't like looking at the mess afterward, so they ate out a lot anyway. Sometimes, though – mostly in the summer – Alfred's dad would drag the grill out of the shed in the backyard and look for whatever meat was in the fridge.

Tonight was one of those nights. Alfred didn't feel quite as awkward as he would have on a normal day. After putting up with Arthur's uncharacteristic fussing and hugs, Alfred had gone home to face the music. He'd gotten more hugs from Matt and his dad, and both his parents had apologized for what happened at the restaurant, though he was still grounded in no unspoken terms. His mom had cried a lot, and while Alfred had felt that he was the only one who deserved to cry after what happened, he tried to be sympathetic.

That had been but a few days ago, and everyone was still walking on eggshells around him.

His mom and dad's parenting methods had always been a little odd. They were the kind of people – his mom especially – who wanted to keep up appearances. It made sense since his dad was Chief of Police and was under a lot of scrutiny on any regular day. Alfred and Matthew always had to behave themselves when they were kids, and while Alfred had started to rebel really early, he'd always made sure to never let his bad habits reflect on his dad.

Their favorite phrase had once been, "Just get over it." That had never really bothered Alfred. Up until Matt spilled their family's darkest secret, Alfred had been able to do just that, forget about what was bothering him in favor of whatever good things were going on in his life. Back then, it hadn't been hard.

Alfred pulled a face, tugging on his cowlick absently. Remembering how optimistic he used to be made him want to simultaneously cry and throw up.

"What's with that ugly face?" Matt asked, leaning forward on his elbows in his spot across the table from Alfred. "Did Robert use expired meat in the burgers again?"

"One mistake and you never hear the end of it." Alfred's dad sighed, and his mom giggled from behind her napkin.

"Maybe this is just my face, shit-dick." Alfred said snidely, and while his mom threw him a look, no one said anything. He was usually able to get away with a lot of shit after he and his parents apologized after a fight, especially when they were the ones in the wrong. Alfred definitely capitalized on that. "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"Oo, fascinating." Matt whistled, and Alfred stuck his tongue out.

"Should we go out for ice cream?" Alfred's dad suggested, and Alfred had to suppress a shudder. He really hoped the mention of the frozen desert wouldn't remind him of Christian for the rest of his life. He'd stuck to his story about staying at Kiku's for the night. As far as his family knew, he was still a virgin, and it was going to stay that way if Alfred had anything to say about it. "We can clean up this mess when we get back."

Alfred let his hand drop back down to the table. "I'd rather not. If I'm grounded, I'd appreciate no half measures. Gives me false hope."

Matthew snorted. "Stop stealing my car and maybe this wouldn't happen so often."

"Stop leaving your keys in the ignition! God, you guys should punish Matt, too. How am I supposed to resist when he's so careless about his stuff?"

"Spoken like an up and coming criminal." His dad said with a little humor. Alfred was still thrown by the faith his dad seemed to have in him. He might act out a bit, but Alfred would never do anything immoral, at least in his old man's mind. "You really should stop leaving your car unlocked with the keys inside, Matthew. Next time it could be someone who doesn't intend on bringing the thing back."

"It is a bad habit." Their mom commented. "You'd think you would've learned by now, Mattie."

Matthew scowled, and Alfred had to stifle a laugh, going back to toying with his cowlick. His brother had always hated that nickname. As vocal as he was with Alfred, he'd always had trouble speaking up to the adults.

"Gotta get it under wraps before you head off to college." Alfred chided. "Your hazing might involve your car getting stolen."

"When are you leaving again, Matthew?" Alfred's dad asked. He hadn't been home much lately, so he wasn't really in tune with what was going on. Alfred hadn't really been watching the news, but he remembered that there were a string of break-ins in a neighborhood a few blocks away from the police station. Whoever was doing it was a cocky son of a bitch. Robert Jones would only take so much before he started cracking down.

"The weekend after next." Matt replied, and Alfred glanced out the window and into their backyard, determined to not let on how bothered he was by his brother's imminent departure. "I want to be settled in by the time the semester starts."

"Your dad know you're coming?"

Up until Matthew was fifteen, his biological dad had lived in Canada. Specifically Toronto, though Alfred cared so little about his brother's father that he was probably wrong. Jordan Williams had made the move to make it easier for Matt to visit him or something along those lines, and Matt had capitalized on that for a while when all he wanted was to get away from Alfred.

He'd settled in St. Louis, a couple hours drive away from their home in Hannibal. Jordan was still single as far as Alfred knew, watch-less and shamed in the eyes of their society. Alfred had only seen him once, at Matthew's high school graduation. He'd been sixteen then and knew that he and Matthew were only half-brothers, and when he'd noticed the lurker who his mom kept shooting nervous glances at, Alfred had managed to piece it all together.

Matt looked like their mom enough that Alfred hadn't thought to question their relation when he was younger, but when he saw Jordan for the first time, it only made everything all the more real. Matt had his dad's eyes. Alfred hadn't been able to look at his brother directly for a few days afterward.

Matthew had once told Alfred that he wasn't all that close with his dad. Alfred wondered if it had anything, perhaps _everything,_ to do with their mom's infidelity, but if Jordan hadn't been in the wrong at least a little, why was Matt so hesitant to speak about him? He'd never thought to ask, didn't want to bring old wounds to the surface, but he'd always been curious.

He'd been surprised when Matt announced he was going to school in the city where his dad lived and was even going to stay with him until Matt was able to support himself on his own. Maybe it was stupid, but Alfred didn't want his older brother to go off and have another life somewhere, especially not with the person who'd played a key role in the destruction of their family's stability.

Alfred probably wouldn't say so until Matthew was already gone, but he was going to miss him.

"Yeah, he knows I'm coming." Matthew replied, and Alfred didn't miss the lingering look that passed between him and their mom. "He's pretty excited."

"I bet." Alfred muttered, picking up his can of Pepsi and chugging.

"Gonna miss me, Al?" Matt asked, teasing but only slightly.

Alfred threw him an unimpressed look, wondering if his brother had been able to read his emotions. He'd been creepily good at that once he actually started paying attention to Alfred. "Please. I can't get rid of you fast enough."

"You'll miss my car, at least."

"Oh, shit, you're right. Hey, Dad, how soon can I get my own ride?"

"As soon as you take your test and get your license." His mom answered for her husband, smirking at Alfred's obvious wince. "Which you _are_ going to be doing within the next week, young man. According to your brother, you've been taking his car for years, so you should be a good enough driver by now. Just study the pamphlet your dad brought home and I'll take you to the DMV."

"Joy."

"You're overdue for it anyway." His dad said. "All your friends have their licenses."

"Wow, all two of them!" Alfred exclaimed. "Compared to the dozens of other kids at school who I know for a fact don't have their licenses either."

"Oh, yeah?" Matt said. "Name three."

"Well, the Vargas twins for starters. Those two can't work a go-cart, let alone an actual vehicle. They'd probably start crying before the key was even in the ignition. And then there's me. So, that's three."

"You said people other than yourself!"

"Well, I don't know a lot of people." Alfred said with a slight shrug, just as his phone began to ring in his pocket.

"What's our rule about phones at the table, Alfred?" His mom said with a slight sigh, though Alfred knew she wasn't going to do anything about it tonight.

"We're not even eating." Alfred pointed out as he fished his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. "We're just sitting here making small talk, which, might I add, kills at least five of my brain cells every time I'm forced to participate. Hello?"

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, you're fine, Kiku." Alfred said, already pushing away from the table. "I'll be in my room."

"Leave us to clean up the mess why don't you." Matt laughed, and Alfred flipped him off once he made sure neither of his parents was paying attention.

He hurried up to his room, being careful not to breathe too heavily into the phone – man, was he out of shape – and he shut the door as quietly as he could.

"Okay, I'm in a neutralized area."

Amused laughter filled the speaker, and Alfred indulgently allowed himself to grin stupidly for a few moments. "You're hell-bent on keeping this a secret, aren't you?"

"Well, can you blame me? I just got my parents off my back about you. If they find out we're talking, they'll be insufferable. My mom especially."

"It's not as if we're anything more than friends at this point. If your mum wants juicy details, she'll be disappointed. And to be fair, we were already talking before."

"Not like this, you moron."

"Hey, your words, not mine."

Alfred jumped up onto his bed, kicking the driving pamphlets his dad had gotten him on the floor before he rolled onto his back, grateful to have a moment to himself after spending most of his Saturday with his day with his family. He and Arthur had just seen each other a few hours ago at the center, but it might as well have been days. Alfred had found himself quite smitten with his trainer in such a short amount of time. How Arthur hadn't managed to realize that yet was beyond him.

"Did I tell you Matt's leaving for college soon?"

"No, that hasn't come up." Arthur said, though Alfred had already known that. He didn't talk about his family with Arthur much. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and end up spilling his family's secret prematurely. Baby steps, even though all Alfred wanted to do was take a flying leap. "What's he studying?"

"He's not exactly sure yet, but I've heard him talking about majoring in chemical engineering. He was always good at the sciencey stuff in school." Arthur made a noncommittal noise, and Alfred frowned at his ceiling. "Something wrong?"

"Not particularly." Arthur replied, shuffling around on his end of the line. "My cat is being a nuisance."

"You have a cat? Huh."

"Does that surprise you?"

"Kinda. I can't see you with dogs either. You don't seem like a pet person."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it wasn't necessarily my choice. My brother and his wife have a Scottish Fold that they received as a wedding present a few years back. The thing disappeared for a week and then came back unharmed, but it had a litter of kittens a few months later. They managed to find most of them good homes, but one of the females was… unable to be adopted, so to say."

"I'm assuming you were saddled with her?"

"More or less. She doesn't like a lot of people. I guess I was the only one she could tolerate for long periods of time."

"What's her name?"

"I call her Tori, but her full name's Victoria."

Alfred snorted, stuffing the hand that wasn't holding his phone to his ear underneath his pillow, feeling the coolness of its underside. It was his right arm, the one he'd injured, and the slight burn in his joints reassured him that he still wasn't completely healed and had time to figure things out. "How horribly British of you."

"Perhaps." Arthur replied, and Alfred could almost visualize his smirk.

It was weird. Alfred hadn't been communicating honestly with Arthur for all that long, but he felt as if he'd known him for years. Arthur had been taken aback at first by Alfred's sudden enthusiasm, because while they'd been friendly before, Alfred was still reluctant. Now, there was almost nothing holding the teen back. Arthur knew better than to say anything, probably fearing that there would be another regression on Alfred's part, but he'd started opening up a lot more.

Now Alfred _knew_ things. He knew that Arthur had been born and raised in Lancaster until he was twelve, when his parents decided to move considerably sized family to the States for a change of pace and scenery. Arthur hadn't thought it was a good reason to uproot their entire lives, but he'd never thought to complain for whatever reason. His older brother Scott had actually met his soul mate at the airport, and Arthur said they almost missed their flight because Scott had refused to leave her until he was certain he would either find or see her again.

Alfred knew that Arthur became a physical trainer because he'd broken his leg when his brother Owen pushed him out of a tree when he was a kid. During the recovery process, Arthur had been convinced he'd never walk properly again. Everything had been so difficult and painful for longer than the doctors had estimated. His therapists, however, had been nothing but encouraging, and they'd been patient even when Arthur felt like quitting.

"I guess you could say they gave me hope that things would be okay, even if my rotten brothers did push me out of trees." Arthur had said, pushing his callused fingers into the skin on Alfred's shoulder as he tried to see how much Alfred could take without feeling a twinge of pain. "Hope is a funny thing. It motivates people. What do you say? Am I doing a good job?"

Arthur had been joking, but Alfred nodded anyway. Maybe it wasn't the kind Arthur had experienced as a kid, what had driven him onto the career path he'd chosen, but he did give Alfred hope; or at least a glimpse into a future he'd previously refused to imagine.

"I have a question for you." Arthur said, his voice loud in Alfred's ear.

The teenager shifted slightly in his bed, suddenly apprehensive. "Shoot."

"Okay, don't… freak out." Arthur began, and Alfred figured that he wasn't going to like this change in subject matter. "But did you ever tell your parents about what happened that night?"

Alfred didn't see why that was relevant, but he'd indulge Arthur for now. "Hell no. I'm not gonna tell them that what they did drove me into having unprotected sex with someone, are you kidding me?"

"I guess I'm wondering why you decided to tell _me_ and not them." Arthur continued, sounding exasperated. That day in the break room, Arthur had demanded reassurance that Alfred hadn't done anything harmful or stupid. As lucid as he'd felt that morning, Alfred had told him what he'd done with Christian. Arthur hadn't looked pleased exactly, but he hadn't gotten mad. In hindsight, Alfred was embarrassed he'd told his soul mate that he hadn't exactly been faithful, even if they weren't together. "I don't think I'm the obvious choice when it comes to who you divulge your escapades to."

"Don't ask me why I do what I do, because even I don't know." Alfred groaned. "I just… Kiku and Elizabeta already knew without me having to tell them because they know what I'm like. You're a blank slate."

"In other words, you want me to know what you're like."

"Well, duh." Alfred said tonelessly. "Better now than later."

Arthur was pretty stupid if he hadn't figured out Alfred's intentions by now. He left a fuck load of hints, intentional or otherwise, but if Arthur noticed, he always chose to ignore them. Maybe he didn't want to get his hopes up after all the crap Alfred had pulled. The teenager didn't really blame him.

"Just don't say it so bluntly next time." Arthur said with a slight chuckle, though his tone was serious. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Duly noted." He hadn't been able to decide if Arthur had been jealous or not. The man was good at keeping his expressions neutral if he really tried. "But, um, I don't know how long I'll be able to stay on the phone, so I'll just say this now. I have a question, too."

"Okay… " Arthur said uncertainly, and Alfred heard the dinging sound that occurred whenever someone opened the driver side door of a car.

Deciding to ignore it, Alfred went on. "How do you want to do this?"

"This?"

"The whole… soul mate thing. _Us_."

Arthur was silent. Alfred imagined that he was staring straight ahead, unseeing and unable to believe what he was hearing. Even Alfred was kind of in disbelief despite the fact that he'd put hours of thought into this. "Alfred, I wasn't even aware that 'us' was a possibility."

Alfred's mouth popped open. "Seriously?"

"Well, why would I?" Arthur asked. His voice wasn't giving much away in regards to how he was feeling. "You haven't exactly been the most receptive to the idea."

"Still working on it." Alfred admitted. "But I'm not as opposed as I was before. You… well, you're very persuasive."

"I haven't said much in light of our situation!" Arthur protested, though he spoke with a smug undertone.

"It's actually what you didn't say." Alfred said, though he refused to elaborate. "So, anyway. Yeah. Ball's in your court, dude. This is as far as my emotionally stunted mind is willing to take this conversation."

"If that's what you want." Arthur said, and for whatever reason, Alfred was overcome by an intense wave of sadness. "Since I never allowed myself to entertain the idea, I'm not really sure what to say."

"It's not about what I want, Arthur. Well, it is partly, but we have to be in this together."

Dear God, this was more painful than he thought it would be. Alfred didn't need a mirror to know that he was beet red. He meant every word, of course he did, but forcing them out into the open shouldn't have been this difficult. Kiku and Elizabeta would be choking on their own laughter if they could hear him.

"We don't have to rush into anything or even talk about this now." Arthur replied after a time. Alfred wasn't sure what to make of it. "To be honest, I'm more than pleased with the fact that you're actually talking about it. We have time."

Alfred didn't agree. He couldn't explain the sickly sense of foreboding in his stomach that refused to leave him to his peace. He felt like they had a time limit, a deadline to make that their watches hadn't told them about. He wanted to resolve everything quickly before something went wrong, before his epiphany went away; but he had to have faith, hope. That's what Arthur wanted, wasn't it?

"I'll tell you why I hate the watches." Alfred said quietly, still staring firmly at his ceiling. "Not now, but eventually."

"Promise?"

Alfred smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I promise. Just be patient with me."

"That, I can do." Arthur laughed. It was true. He'd waited this long, after all. "Hey, I'm at the veterinarian's now, so I have to get going."

"Everything okay?"

"Mhm. Tori's old enough to be neutered, so I figured I'd take care of that before she ends up like her mother."

"Poor little fucker. Tell her I'm sorry."

"Will do. Goodbye, Alfred."

"See ya." No sooner had Alfred hung up that he received a text message from Kiku, sent to both him and Elizabeta: _CODE RED._

Alfred sat up immediately, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he weighed his options. If he weren't grounded, he would've taken Matt's car and hauled ass to Kiku's house as a Code Red warranted; but he was in enough trouble as it was. Alfred didn't want to upset the delicate balance, not when he was finally starting to take some initiative.

Maybe it was nothing, Alfred reasoned as he dialed Kiku's cell number. It could've been a number of things, a person from school coming around to continue on with fights that couldn't be won, fights that Alfred and Elizabeta had instigated or otherwise. Maybe Alfred wasn't even required to go over there, could take care of it directly from his bedroom.

Kiku answered almost immediately. "Hey, I'm still grounded, and I'd rather not piss my parents off more than necessary. What's the matter?"

"Remember when I told you that my parents were acting weird?"

"Yeah, but – "

"They want to move back to Japan indefinitely. And they're insisting that I go with them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Alfred's kinda fucked and he doesn't even know it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Had an awesome time riding horses and pretending I was exploring Wall Maria, but damn, did I miss writing for this story. This chapter is mostly dialogue and silent contemplation on Alfred's part. 
> 
> Aaand I'm finally certain of how I want this story to end. Based on your reviews and outstanding intellects, I'm assuming most if not all of you will be pleased with it. I'm so flippin' excited!

Grounded or not, nothing was going to keep Alfred from waiting in his driveway when Kiku pulled up in his car with Elizabeta in tow.

Matt and their parents had decided ice cream was a good idea and had left nearly fifteen minutes previously, though Alfred doubted he would have listened even if his parents were there to scream at him to come back inside.

Alfred was barely keeping it together, crouched there on the curb in front of his mailbox, staring off into nothing when the familiar black Prius slowed to a stop in front of him. He stood quickly, heading immediately for the back seat. It was an unspoken agreement between the three of them that Alfred took shotgun when Kiku was driving and Elizabeta sat in the back, but right now, he was in desperate need of the physical contact Elizabeta was sure to provide.

Her jade eyes were alive with worry as he clambered into the car and shut the door. "Are you okay?" She demanded. They hadn't seen or spoken to one another since Alfred disappeared with Christian.

"Fine." Alfred said curtly, staring hard at the back of Kiku's head. "What's with this Japan business?"

"Well, hello to you, too." Kiku sighed as he pulled away from Alfred's house. They would probably just drive aimlessly until an agreement was reached; or acceptance. There was little the three of them could do if Kiku's parents were set on moving back to Japan. "Sounds like you're in a good mood."

"Dude, please." Alfred groaned, just barely noticing the arm Elizabeta wound around his shoulders. "I'm in no emotional state to deal with your shit. I fucked Christian Harris, for God's sake."

"Wait, whoa." Elizabeta cut in hurriedly. "You fucked him? Or he fucked you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kinda! Did you use a condom? _Did he?_ I swear to God, if he gave you something, I'll bash his fucking face in."

"What good would that do if I already got something from him? Which I _didn't_." No good would come from mentioning that Alfred was slightly concerned about that himself. He currently had bigger fish to fry. "Kiku, get with the explaining."

"Apparently my grandfather has gotten really sick in the last few months." Kiku started with no more prompting. He could probably hear how close Alfred was to reaching the end of his rope. It wouldn't take much to set him off at this point. "My grandmother can't take care of him on her own, and there's no one else to help her."

Elizabeta was huddled close to Alfred's side while they listened, relatively silent after her inquiries about his night with Christian. It was a wonder she wasn't straight up bawling. After watching so many men come and go from her life, she'd developed somewhat of a trust issue, if not a problem with being abandoned. She'd never said as much outright, but her mom had warned them early on in their friendship about what they were getting into.

Kiku and Alfred were supposed to be the consistent ones. They were supposed to stay; and Alfred was just as worried for Elizabeta as he was for himself, didn't know how either of them would be in the aftermath if they really did have to leave Kiku at the airport.

"My grandparents weren't happy when Mom and Dad moved here when Mom was pregnant with me." Kiku went on to say, pulling over to the side of the road as a police car went roaring by. Alfred watched it go, and even though he knew his dad was off duty, he still felt an uncomfortable pinch of worry in his stomach. "I think now that Grandfather's sick, my mother feels guiltier than ever. So, after dinner they told me to… acclimate myself to the idea of moving to Japan with them."

Alfred shared a frustrated glance with Elizabeta. "So, when are you leaving?" Elizabeta asked. "How long will you be gone?"

"They still have to finalize a few things, so we have until the end of the month, at least." Kiku said, and Alfred closed his eyes, tried to keep his breathing normal. Matt would be leaving at the end of the month. So, that would be his brother and best friend, both gone from Alfred's life when everything was fucking crazy. "As to how long we'll be gone, I don't know."

"But… this is our senior year!" Elizabeta exclaimed. "We were finally going to be top dogs. And no one wants me or Al to fuck them up, so nobody would've messed with us. Ugh, everything was perfect!"

"Don't you think I understand what I'd be leaving behind?" Kiku demanded, gesturing aimlessly with his right hand while his left clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. Normally he was a careful and precise driver, but they were all on edge today. "You know I don't like having to ask my parents for anything, and I can't very well complain when we're going to help take care of a sick relative. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place here!"

Alfred didn't have to see Kiku's face to know that his friend was deeply upset by everything that had been happening. It was like Elizabeta said at the ice cream shop. The three of them dealt with one another's problems on top of their own, and Alfred's drama had taken a large presence in their lives as of late.

Kiku wasn't fond of foreign situations, but he hardly ever complained and just went with the flow most of the time. Even if both of his parents were Japanese, he'd been born and raised in the United States. Starting a whole new life in a different country was going to be stressful for Kiku, but if anything was bothering him right then, at that specific moment, it was the prospect of leaving Alfred and Elizabeta.

Kiku had mentioned that his parents kept asking about Alfred's well being. They'd probably known the separation would be tough on them. They – as well as Alfred's parents and Elizabeta's mom – knew better than to come between the three of them unless it was absolutely necessary.

The blue-eyed teenager had never entertained the idea of being apart from Kiku and Elizabeta after that first day of high school. Their freshman class had been small. Orientation Day rolled around and Alfred found himself sitting on Kiku's right side, no "I's" separating them in the alphabetized lineup. On Kiku's left had been Elizabeta Héderváry, a loudmouth of a brunette who Alfred couldn't have ignored even if he'd wanted to.

Honestly, he hadn't given her a second thought until he realized Kiku was speaking, but not to him. That caught Alfred's attention more than anything. Still newly bitter about his life, Alfred had felt possessive and pissed off, but Elizabeta hadn't been fazed by his cold demeanor. They'd stuck together throughout the day, and it became apparent to Alfred that the girl who'd attached herself to them was most likely scared.

High school was new and weird. Walking into it alone would've sucked, and whatever feelings of sympathy Alfred was capable of having at that time, he felt for Elizabeta. So, they'd agreed to meet up in the foyer on the first day of school. Alfred and Kiku arrived together, and Elizabeta had been waiting for them, nervously biting her nails as her green eyes kept straying toward the door, hair falling in a frizzy mass around her shoulders.

The relieved smile that lit up her face when she saw them walking toward her that morning stuck with Alfred, and they'd been inseparable ever since. The notion that things wouldn't always be about the three of them had been unfathomable, and now that they were faced with it, they weren't sure what to do.

"Alfred?" Elizabeta was calling to him, the hand that wasn't gripping his wounded shoulder moving to rest on his knee, shaking it gently. "You haven't said anything in a while. Are you okay?"

"Don't ask me that." Alfred replied tonelessly. It was becoming a common question. "You know I'm not."

"Well, say _something._ " Kiku said, exasperated for whatever reason. "You're making me nervous."

"What do you want me to say?" Alfred demanded, voice cracking almost embarrassingly. Elizabeta's hold on him tightened as his throat did, and Alfred didn't even bother trying to keep from crying. "I can't tell you not to go even though I want to. Your grandpa is sick, for fuck's sake. Go to Japan. Have fun. Send a postcard or two."

Kiku's shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh. They were at a red light, and Alfred debated getting out of the car and walking back home. He didn't want to deal with his; but he doubted he'd be able to escape Elizabeta's mother hen instincts that were currently keeping him somewhat grounded. "Don't be like that, Al."

"Everything's fucked!" Alfred shouted, his tears damn near scalding as they slid down his face. "I mean, I know I'm the universe's go-to guy when it comes to fucking someone over, but this is ridiculous. Everything's happening all at once."

"Everything isn't always about you, Alfred." Kiku snapped. How long had he been sitting on that one? "I mean, _Jesus,_ how many pity parties can you throw in one week?"

"I'll have as many as I want, you fucking asshole!"

"Guys, stop." Elizabeta said, her voice quiet but firm. "I know everything is weird right now, but don't take it out on each other."

Alfred didn't say anything, silently fuming as he wiped away his tears. He and Kiku didn't fight often, and while whatever had just happened could hardly be considered a fight, it didn't sit well with him.

"I'm sorry." Alfred huffed, ashamed for not thinking about Kiku a little more. He was probably terrified of leaving, and all Alfred could think about was how he could live his life without Kiku. At least Alfred would have Elizabeta. Kiku was going it alone with his parents. "You're not an asshole. You know I love you."

"I know. And I'm sorry, too. You care too much about other people and that's why you're so bitchy all the time." Kiku said in reply, though he went on before Alfred had a chance to respond, let alone comprehend what he'd just said. "Guys, what do I do? I'd rather sit through AP U.S. History again than move."

"We'll smuggle you down into my basement." Alfred said. "No one goes down there. I'll bring you table scraps."

"Top notch planning there, guys." Elizabeta sighed, shaking her head. "God, why am friends with you? So much drama."

"We make your life a nonstop party, obviously."

"Whose house are we sleeping at tonight?" Kiku asked. He sounded tired, resigned, everything Alfred had been since freshman year. "I told my parents I had to sort things out for myself, and they let me leave. I don't think they expect me to be back until at least tomorrow."

"My bed is bigger, plus I have the PS4 and extra controllers." Alfred said. "I don't think my parents and Matt are home by now. If we head back and beat them there, they won't make you leave. That wouldn't be good hospitality."

Kiku didn't say anything, but he switched lanes haphazardly without even using his turn signal, preparing to turn around and head back to Alfred's house. Alfred didn't doubt that the three of them would be up until the morning hours playing video games and just talking to each other, telling stupid jokes, reminiscing about times past, and probably questioning the American government once they were tired enough.

They would ignore Kiku's impending departure for as long as they were able. It would be easier. None of them were capable of saying goodbye.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one. I'm really proud of how much Alfred has grown though. Remember when he was denying any attraction to Arthur at all? Ah, good times.

"You really don't mind if we cut this a little short?"

"Not really, no. Why, should I be concerned?"

Alfred shrugged, tossing the medicine ball back to Arthur, who caught it with ease. "I guess I feel bad, cheating you out of money and all."

Arthur hummed slightly, throwing the ball back again. They'd been doing that particular exercise for a little over twenty minutes. Maybe it was a waste of time considering that Alfred had asked to cut his session down to forty-five minutes today, but the teenager didn't feel like doing much else. "Your company is compensation enough."

It took a lot of will power to keep from smiling like a love-struck idiot. Alfred still didn't understand why Arthur was always so happy to see him, but he was long past questioning it. There was no reason behind Arthur. He just was.

"Besides," Arthur continued, and he kept the ball when Alfred tossed it back to him. Alfred took that as the end of the exercise. "You have a good reason. Matthew's leaving today, isn't he?"

Alfred sighed. He hadn't told Arthur the reason he'd asked to leave early, but of course the man would remember something he'd said two weeks ago. "Yeah, he is."

"Must be tough on you." Arthur said, smiling sympathetically. "I hardly remember when my eldest brother left for uni, but my mum says I cried for a good three hours after he was gone."

"Really? I thought you hated your brothers."

"Hate is such a strong word. It's more of a… vexation that I feel for them. But I didn't always."

Alfred wasn't sure what happened to change Arthur's opinion of his brothers. Maybe it was the whole tree incident or something else entirely. Either way, Alfred planned on finding out sooner or later.

To be honest, Alfred would rather stay and be with Arthur than go home and say goodbye to Matt. He'd been dreading it all week, spending as much time away from home as he could with Kiku and Elizabeta in an effort to ignore everything. His parents had finally lifted the grounding after realizing that it wasn't going to stop Alfred from doing what he wanted, but he did have a curfew if he wasn't spending the night somewhere else.

Matthew had been insistent on spending time together, and while Alfred never denied his brother, their outings were far from fun. Everything was heavy between them and had been since Alfred met Arthur. There were still things that needed to be said before Matt left, hatchets to bury and all that, and it was all Alfred could think about when he was around his brother.

Maybe it was stupid, but something in the back of his head told Alfred that Matt's departure would bring back the inferiority complex he had as a kid. That feeling of being ignored, calling out but never receiving an answer, was something Alfred never wanted to experience again, but some part of him was convinced it would happen.

His brother would be busy reconnecting with his biological dad, after all. Maybe it would bring back all the hate he'd felt when they were kids. Alfred didn't know what he would do if Matthew were to turn on him once more. There would be no recovery from it, not again.

"It'll be okay." Arthur said, and Alfred blinked, meeting the trainer's warm evergreen gaze. "He'll only be a few hours drive away. And I'm sure he'll miss you as much as you'll miss him."

"Don't be stupid." Alfred replied, annoyed that he was so transparent where Arthur was concerned. "I'm turning his room into a bachelor pad. He can't leave fast enough." Arthur quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced, and Alfred huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. "Look, I don't get emotional over stuff. Trying to get a confession out of me is like pulling teeth."

"You don't say." Arthur said, deadpan.

Alfred rolled his eyes, and the muscles in Arthur's arms tensed as he prepared to throw the ball again. The phone at the front desk rang, and Arthur stilled, listening. Alfred watched with interest.

He could see Angie answering the phone just beyond Arthur's shoulder, and her cheerful expression melted away almost immediately. Alfred knew what was coming.

"Hey, Arthur?" She called, resting the phone's speaker against her shoulder.

Arthur tipped his head back over his chair, shoulders sagging. Suddenly faced with an unguarded neck as tantalizing as Arthur's, Alfred floundered for control, stood slightly only to sit back down on his hands to keep himself from doing something unsightly in public. "You know the drill, Angie!" Arthur called.

The receptionist nodded with a slight sigh before lifting the phone to her ear again, speaking into the receiver quietly.

"This has been going on for weeks now." Alfred said once Arthur had righted himself. "Someone _really_ wants to talk to you."

"It's not important." Arthur replied, and again, his mood had hit ground levels. Alfred felt it like a sudden drop in air pressure, and it bothered him. "I'm not supposed to take personal calls while I'm working anyhow. Whoever it is, whatever they want, will have to wait."

 _They've been waiting for nearly a month. Whoever it is gets an A plus for determination from me._ "You should get out more." Alfred said out loud, deciding a subject change was in order.

Arthur eyed him warily. "What makes you think I don't get out?"

"I don't know, maybe it's your 'I'm not supposed to take personal calls' disposition. But do you?"

"Not lately. Too much on my plate."

"That's something an old person would say." Alfred groaned, and he could've sworn the skin around Arthur's left eye twitched. "I think you should go out, turn off your stupid cell phone, and let loose."

"You don't know me very well, then, if you think I never let loose." Arthur retorted, somewhat indignant. "I'm not necessarily proud of this, but on the weekends, there's hardly a night when I'm not pissed."

It took Alfred a few moments to realize Arthur was using British terms again. "Are we talking raging off your ass drunk or happily buzzed?"

"You tell me. On the morning after my twenty-first birthday, I woke up with this nose piercing and a tattoo."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Tattoo?"

"Yup." Arthur drawled, P-popping in a way that Alfred found unnecessary and ridiculously attractive. "Would you care to see it?"

"Um." Alfred couldn't think, couldn't move until he heard the glass doors sliding open at the entrance to the building. Elizabeta walked in first, flanked closely by Kiku, who was tapping away at his iPhone, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Alfred stood up, and Arthur watched him, tossing the medicine ball back and forth between his hands. "Well, those are my bitches." Alfred said quickly, wiping his sweaty palms off on his jeans. "Gotta go."

Arthur nodded, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Good luck."

Walking away from Arthur felt like slowly peeling off a Band-Aid, and it took every ounce of Alfred's willpower to not turn around and hustle back to the man's side. Elizabeta was grinning slyly as he walked up to her, and Kiku pocketed his phone, casting a fleeting glance in Arthur's direction.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, but he's a hot piece of ass." Elizabeta drawled, jerking her thumb in Arthur's direction.

"Fuck off, he's mine." Alfred replied, and Kiku snorted as the three of them walked back out of the building. They'd been bouncing back and forth between houses for two weeks now, and tonight they were heading back to Alfred's. Of course, Elizabeta and Kiku also wanted to say goodbye to Matthew, so the timing couldn't have been better. Alfred was glad they were going to be there.

"Hey, I won't fight you for him, Alfie. But still. I can't believe you held out for so long. He's sex on legs!"

"With piercings." Kiku commented, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. Alfred had finally gotten his driver's license a few days previously, but he'd yet to go out with his parents and actually get a car. Like hell he was going to drive his mom's fucking minivan. "Which I'm sure will only worsen your oral fixation, Al."

Alfred tripped, quickly righting himself when Elizabeta burst into giggles. "Dude, no. I don't want to think about that right now."

"But you will later?"

"Well, probably, since you fucking brought it up!"

"What were you two talking about when we came in?" Elizabeta asked as they all piled into Kiku's car, Alfred in the passenger's seat as was routine. "Your neck was as red as a tomato. Still kinda is. Is it warm?"

Alfred couldn't help his cringe as Elizabeta leaned forward to poke at his neck, and he shrugged his shoulder, trying to brush her away. "Nothing. He mentioned that he has a tattoo."

Kiku whistled in appreciation while Elizabeta did some weird spaz attack thing in the back seat. "What's the design?" She asked. "Where is it? Did he say?"

"No, but… "

" _But –_ " Kiku prompted, and it really wasn't fair that he was capable of holding conversations, paying attention to what was being said around him, _and_ drive at the same time.

"He asked if I wanted to see it." Alfred muttered, readjusting the vent in front of him so the AC was blowing at him directly. "The tat, I mean. That's probably why I was red."

"You were _blushing_ over someone's advances? Oh, baby, you've got it bad."

Elizabeta really wasn't telling Alfred anything that he didn't already know. He was quite aware that he tended to swoon over Arthur and was still coming to terms with it. He tried not to do anything too juvenile in front of Arthur, because the fact still remained that there was a six-year age difference between them. Alfred didn't really care about it, but he still wasn't sure how Arthur felt. The older man did like to call him a kid all the time…

"Do you have… _any_ idea," Alfred lifted his hands to his face, palms pressed firmly to his eyes, "how frustrating it is to _wait_ for someone? It's torture."

"Well, of course you're not used to it." Kiku said blandly. "You crook your finger and every man inclined to do so comes running."

Alfred opened his mouth to make an argument to the contrary but hesitated. "… Shit."

Elizabeta snorted, a sound her mother wouldn't hesitate to call unladylike. "It's the baby-blues, I'm telling you! They're tantalizing."

"Tantalizing." Alfred repeated, stifling the urge to bust out laughing. "That makes me sound like some hardcore seductress."

"Not too far off the mark."

The three of them went back and forth like that for the rest of the car ride to Alfred's house. Alfred took comfort in their easy banter, though the fact that Kiku would be leaving soon, disrupting the order, continued to nag at him. They hadn't discussed it since the day Kiku found out, and Alfred was just waiting for the confrontation.

When they pulled into Alfred's neighborhood, Alfred could easily see Matthew's car, filled with his older brother's junk. "He's really going." Elizabeta said quietly, her voice close to Alfred's ear.

Having only just recently been told why Alfred so vehemently hated the soul mate concept, Elizabeta was friendlier with Matthew than Kiku was. They got along pretty well, but then, Elizabeta tended to treat his and Kiku's families like her own.

"But," Elizabeta went on as Kiku pulled up at the curb and turned off the car, "maybe I can use his room so I don't have to sleep in the same bed as you two dweebs."

"Like either of us is gonna touch you." Alfred said as he got out of the car. "I'm fucking gay, and Kiku's as sexually disinterested as they come. Not to mention you're way too bossy, you snore, you burp in people's faces – "

"Okay, okay, I get it, I was just kidding!" Elizabeta exclaimed from somewhere behind Alfred, her voice somewhat shrill. "Jeez, way to give a girl a pep talk, Al."

"Just let it go." Kiku said, laughing as he and Elizabeta followed Alfred through the lawn to the porch. "What he means to say is, you're too good for us."

"Exactly." Alfred called over his shoulder, reaching for the doorknob and finding it unlocked. Upon opening it and walking inside, he called, "I have returned home, my love!"

There were a few beats of silence before Matthew's voice sounded from the kitchen. "My heroic soldier, back from war at last!"

"You two are such nerds." Elizabeta sighed.

Alfred ignored her, heading off to the kitchen while Kiku and Elizabeta headed for the stairs. They knew better than to follow him, figured that now would be the time for Alfred to get what he had to say to his brother out in the open; and they would be right, though Alfred was in no way prepared for it.

Matthew was standing at the island, stuffing chips in a Ziploc bag with his iPod playing on low on the counter. He glanced up when Alfred walked in, offering his brother a slight smile. "You're home early."

"An older brother only leaves home once. Hopefully." Alfred said, moving forward to lean on the island, bracing his palms on the cool surface. "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Robert was called down to the station or something, and Mom ran to the store."

Alfred nodded along as his brother spoke, biting at his lip nervously. "Cool. Uh, can we talk?"

"Sure. What about?"

Matthew's head was elsewhere; otherwise he probably would've reacted in a concerned manner and given Alfred his full attention. Alfred wouldn't be surprised if his brother was second-guessing his decision to leave, but it was too late now.

Scratching at his neck nervously, Alfred went on. "So, um. You know how you told me about Mom and Dad? Well, _my_ dad, anyway."

That caught Matthew's attention. He reached down and turned off his iPod, giving Alfred his undivided attention. "… Yeah."

"I have a confession to make." Alfred kept his head down, stared at his brother's bag of chips. "I always told you that I wasn't mad at you for telling me, but… I lied. I was incredibly upset with you for a really long time, and I feel like a dick for not being up front with you about it. So, I'm sorry I lied and pretty much avoided the problem until now when you're about to leave."

Everything was quiet for a few moments, and when Alfred glanced up, Matthew wasn't looking at him either. He didn't look happy, though Alfred hadn't expected him to. "When did you stop being upset with me?" Matthew asked eventually.

"Honestly? I'm still not completely over it. Whenever I let my guard down, it's like… a time loop. I can't _stop_ reliving that moment." Alfred shook his head. "You just sat me down after my eighth grade graduation and told me we didn't have the same dad. I hadn't even opened my presents yet. _Who_ does that?"

Ancient feelings of anger and betrayal came boiling to the surface, but Alfred chose not to focus on them for a change, only stared at his brother's guilt-ridden expression. "I'm not saying all of this to hurt you." Alfred said. "I just wanted it out there. If someone felt bitter toward me for something I did, I'd want them to tell me. Depending on the person, I probably wouldn't care even if I did make them mad, but you're my brother. You deserve my honesty."

Matthew still wasn't looking at Alfred, though after seemingly turning his younger brother's words over in his head, he finally met his gaze. "I don't think I'll regret anything more than I do what I did to you. Looking back, I can't _believe_ that I ever thought that making sure you found out that way would be okay."

"It was pretty douchey."

"I'm not making excuses, but… I think I was so angry with you because I never really dealt with Mom's divorce with my dad." Matthew said, and Alfred stiffened slightly. Matthew had never talked about Jordan Williams of his own volition before. "They weren't happy. I remember they used to fight a lot. I still don't know why, but I guess I expected them to just work it out."

"What good did it do to be mean to me? It wouldn't have changed anything."

"I know that now. And I didn't always think it was your fault. I actually used to let Mom put you to sleep in my room when you were a baby, but then I got old enough to realize that you were born pretty much nine months after my parents divorced. I thought Mom left my dad because she had an affair with Robert and became pregnant with you. I guess I was upset with everyone, but you were just… you were my size. You were easier to take my frustrations out on."

Picking on the little guy. It pissed Alfred off, and if he saw any of that happening at school, he was always quick to say something, verbally or physically; but like Matthew said. It was just easier, and that was the route most people opted to take. That, Alfred could understand, though as a former punching bag himself, it was difficult to swallow.

"You know, I never believed you when you said you weren't mad at me." Matthew mused. "If I were in your position, I don't think I'd ever get over it."

"Yeah, well, I'm a better person than you are." Alfred said, and Matthew's shoulders shook in a silent laugh. "I don't know. I get mad on a daily basis with a long list of stupid fucking people. It doesn't make any sense to hold grudges against my family. You guys are the ones I can't get away from."

"Why now? You had years to say this stuff to me, Alfred."

"I just can't live with it anymore." Alfred admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm taking steps, I guess, to move on from this, and telling you how I feel was at the top of my list of things to do. And… just in case you had any doubts, I wanted to tell you before you left that I forgive you. Before, I just buried all the negative bullshit, but now I'm actually facing it. I'm still a little bitter, but I don't hate you. I never have. Frankly, I don't think I'm capable of hating you."

The truth really was invigorating. Alfred had been dreading this ever since Matthew announced that he was leaving, but now his entire body was buzzing with adrenaline. He'd never had the guts to say any of this before, and finally letting it out felt liberating.

Matthew moved away from the island suddenly, and Alfred tracked his movements critically, pulling a face. "You're not going to hug me, are you?"

He was given his answer in the form of a tight embrace, and Alfred tried to relax, wasn't used to being touched so completely. Come to think of it… Alfred hadn't had to force himself to calm down when Arthur was the one hugging him. Interesting.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Alfred." Matthew said on his next exhale, voice thick with barely suppressed emotion, and Alfred's mouth quirked as he returned his brother's embrace. "You're my baby brother. You may not believe me, but I never wanted to hurt you, not like this. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for you."

"Yeah. Same. I wouldn't hesitate to beat someone's ass if you asked me to."

It was as close as they could get to an actual "I love you" without really saying it to one another. Alfred was stunted beyond belief, but Matthew wasn't all that emotional either. Alfred would stand by as Matthew got in his car and drove away, probably shake his hand or something, but he wouldn't be this involved.

This was their temporary goodbye, as meaningful as either of them could make it. Matthew would be off to St. Louis to be with his dad, and Alfred would stay behind to put his life back together.

Alfred was going to miss his brother, but at least he would have no regrets after Matthew was already gone. Maybe next time they met, Alfred would be the one initiating hugs.

Probably not.

But it was the thought that counted.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be careful going into this chapter. A lot of you have been so ecstatic about the progress Alfred's made, but that's about to go down the toilet very quickly.

Airports, in Alfred's opinion, were a communal ground for idiotic, rude ass people.

He'd been run into maybe six times, stepped on ten, snapped at maybe a dozen, and if one more hormonal fucking college guy cat-called at Elizabeta, Alfred was going to have to switch to papa bear mode; but luckily for the general population, Alfred was completely in grief mode and didn't have the energy to react as he normally would.

Kiku's parents were speaking to one another in Japanese, and Kiku nodded along every so often while Alfred and Elizabeta shuffled around awkwardly. Eventually, Emi and Kouta turned away from one another and toward Alfred and Elizabeta. Thus began the farewells.

Alfred accepted a long hug from a sniffling Emi and shook Kouta's hand, then stood by with Kiku while Elizabeta received similar gestures. Kiku had been quiet all morning, and standing next to him, Alfred could tell that there were things Kiku was dying to say. Whether or not he would have the time to express everything before their time was up was anyone's guess, though Alfred wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any of it.

Once Kiku's parents were finished with Elizabeta, they started to wander off. Alfred glanced at Kiku, who watched his parents go without moving.

"So," Elizabeta said, clapping her hands together, "are you staying and just forgot to mention it to us?"

"If only." Kiku said with a huge sigh. The three of them were standing close together in the middle of the walkway, and Alfred was hyper-aware of everyone who pushed past them, the squeak of wheels on luggage bags, and planes taking off in the distance. This really wasn't the best place for emotional discussions. "They said they're going to give us time to… say what we have to."

"That's nice of them." Alfred muttered.

Elizabeta sniffed, and all at once her jade eyes were shimmering with tears. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry, dammit." She seethed, wiping at her eyes carefully so as not to smear her mascara. "It's not like we're never going to see you again."

"We'll Skype." Alfred and Kiku said simultaneously, and the two shared an unsure glance before looking away again.

Kiku stepped forward to envelop Elizabeta in a tight embrace, and Alfred hung back, just observing. "Thanks for talking to me that day." Elizabeta choked out, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that it almost looked painful. They all knew what she was talking about. "I don't know how my life would've turned out if you hadn't."

"My God." Alfred said, feeling wretched.

"It was one of the better decisions I've made in my life." Kiku replied, and Elizabeta coughed out a laugh, burying her face in Kiku's shoulder. Her hair was up in a ponytail, so she couldn't use the brunette tresses to hide her grief as she normally would have. "I can't trust Alfred to make friends, so I have to do it myself."

"God, Kiku, don't go. Who's gonna throw the first punch if someone picks fun at you? Who's gonna be the character no one else wants to be when we play on multiplayer?"

Kiku pulled away from Elizabeta to look at her fully, and Alfred stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, itching to leave. He still wasn't quite over Matthew's departure, and having to say goodbye to another important person in his life was only adding salt to an already aggravated wound. He'd stayed up late last night talking to Arthur about it, talking quietly into his phone while Elizabeta and Kiku slept beside him.

"I thought I could just stomach through this." Alfred had said, huddled on his end of the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "But… they're taking pieces of me with them when they leave. Kiku's still here and I already feel like something's missing."

"You'll see them again." Arthur hadn't sounded tired at all, even though it was nearly two in the morning. "It may not be soon, and it may not be for long, but they won't be gone forever."

"Well, I _know_ that. I just don't want them to go in the first place."

"And that's a normal reaction. I guess all you can do is love them while you can. After that, just remember and wait."

Alfred thought back to that conversation as Kiku and Elizabeta continued to say their goodbyes. Arthur didn't sugarcoat things, and Alfred respected that immensely. Everything wasn't sunshine and rainbows and he didn't appreciate when people pretended otherwise.

Alfred blinked when he noticed Kiku turning away from Elizabeta, realized that it was now his turn. Elizabeta did the hanging back, and she had the back of one hand – the hand with her watch – pressed against her mouth. Her shoulders were bouncing every few seconds, and she looked so close to losing it.

If even she couldn't keep it together after knowing Kiku for nearly four years, how could Alfred, who has been there almost since the beginning?

He and Kiku stared at one another for a few moments. To be honest, Alfred wasn't sure what to say, but Kiku seemed to once he gathered his thoughts. "I guess my job is done." He said, and while he smiled, it was laced with sadness.

Alfred eyed Kiku warily. Somehow he knew that his friend had been awake last night (this morning?) and heard his conversation with Arthur. How much of it, he wasn't sure, but it had been enough.

Kiku still had years of waiting left, but Alfred had found his significant other. Before this summer, Alfred would have woken Kiku up to talk to him about how he was feeling, for Kiku was the only one who would've understood; but Arthur was the one talking Alfred down last night, consoling his worried mind even if he wasn't in the room.

They'd promised to watch out for one another until their soul mates showed up. They were life partners in a different way. That period in their life was nearly over, and Alfred was both saddened and relieved.

"Yeah. I guess so." Alfred replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "But I'll always need a friend. One I don't want to… _be_ with, anyway."

"And I'll always supply your life with bromance." Kiku said, nodding.

Alfred's jaw clenched. Why couldn't one of Kiku's aunts – who actually _lived_ in Japan – take care of their ailing dad? Apparently they were all too busy with their jobs to devote the necessary time and energy, but it still seemed unfair to Kiku, and Emi and Kouta as well.

"I think he'll be good for you." Kiku went on to say, rubbing at his neck restlessly. "And hopefully when I see you again, you'll smile like you used to." Alfred just kept nodding, couldn't seem to stop, and Kiku's expression furrowed. "Please don't cry."

"I won't." Alfred breathed, shakily pulling his hands out of his pockets. "Someone has to be strong for Lizzie."

Kiku initiated the hug because Alfred couldn't, but the blue-eyed teenager returned it enthusiastically, didn't want to let go. "I'll miss you. We'll Skype." Kiku said, repeating his words from earlier. Their laptops were about to become their best friends. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"I make no promises." Alfred muttered, patting Kiku's back a few times before releasing him, taking a much-needed step back. "You should go if you don't want to see me cry."

Kiku nodded, teary-eyed himself, and Alfred lurched as his friend turned to walk away, hurrying past Elizabeta, who seemed to be resisting the urge to throw herself on the ground and latch on to Kiku's leg. Alfred extended an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders when she hurried to him, and together they watched Kiku hurry off to where his parents were waiting.

Alfred thought back to his conversation with Matthew, about saying what needed to be said before his brother was gone; and then Arthur, whose advice was to love while he could and always remember.

And wait, of course, though Alfred still struggled with that one.

He lifted the arm where his watch used to reside and cupped it around the side of his mouth, taking a deep breath before shouting after Kiku. "We love you, man! We'll be here waiting when you get back!"

The stares he received were partially ignored. His eyes were on Kiku; and while his friend didn't turn around or even stop walking, he put his head down.

Emi wrapped an arm around her son, pulled him close, and then they were gone.

* * *

 

Alfred had driven his new car to the airport, and he drove himself and Elizabeta back to his house after they pulled themselves together enough to walk away.

They didn't speak. Elizabeta had kicked off her shoes early on into the ride and sat huddled in the passenger's seat, arms wrapped round her knees as she stared straight ahead, unseeing. Alfred knew she felt Kiku's loss as distinctly as he did. To be honest, it felt as if he'd lost his dominant limb or a toy he'd had since infancy. Kiku probably wasn't even in the air yet and still, he was another world away.

"I don't know how my mom does it." Elizabeta said eventually, her usually cheerful voice sounding hoarse and hollow. "She just lets guys into her life and then waves them goodbye, as if they meant nothing."

"They probably did mean nothing. Trust me, I know how it is to sleep around without looking for a serious relationship."

"How do _you_ do it? I feel like I'm bleeding."

Alfred frowned, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, I go in knowing I'll say goodbye. I don't get attached easily."

Elizabeta sighed, slowly uncurling her body to sit normally in the seat. Alfred saw her glance his way through his peripheral vision. "When we first met, I thought you were the hardest son of a bitch. Now I know you're the biggest softy of the three of us. What was with all that yelling at the airport?"

"I was trying to think of what to say to him but couldn't until he'd started to leave. I wasn't about to run after him."

Elizabeta started to laugh but broke off into a hiccup, following by a shuddering gasp. "Gah, I want to sleep for a year! I hate this!"

"It'll get better." Alfred said, though he was still trying to convince himself. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever the fuck. You know, I'm gonna be really pissed if his grandpa just has a chest cold or something."

"Can we stop at McDonald's? I need a Big Mac."

"I don't have any money on me. We'll go back to my house first, and then we'll go."

Elizabeta made a noncommittal noise and quieted down, and they didn't speak for the rest of the ride home.

To his credit, Alfred didn't immediately suspect foul play when he pulled into his neighborhood nearly forty-five minutes later and noticed a foreign car in his driveway. It wasn't until he got closer and recognized its model – he really should start wearing his damn glasses – that he felt his blood run cold.

"Whose car is that?" Elizabeta asked, straining slightly in her seat to see the vehicle clearly. "Is that your grandma's?"

"Arthur's." Alfred said, parking in the street and tearing his way out of the car, not even bothering to turn it off. "I swear to fucking God – "

"Al, what the – " Elizabeta called, hanging back to switch his car off for him. "Wait up!"

But Alfred couldn't wait. What was Arthur doing at his house, _especially_ when Alfred wasn't even there? Arthur wouldn't just show up out of the blue, not unless…

Alfred worked to keep his panic at bay. Was something wrong? Had something happened? A dozen different scenarios ran through his mind – Arthur was sick, Arthur was dying – as he dashed up the lawn toward his front door. He'd _known_ the whole soul mate thing was too good to be true. Not to mention that he was the universe's favorite punching bag. If he'd been given a glimpse of happiness just to have it ripped away from him, there would be fucking hell to pay.

He threw open the door with a shout of, "Mom? Dad?" It was nearly seven at night, and there was a light on in the living room. Alfred headed toward it like a moth to flame. "What happened – "

He stopped. It was just his mom and Arthur, sitting facing one another on the sofa. Alfred took in Arthur's appearance and couldn't find any injuries or variations; not even a hair out of place.

Alfred was panting slightly, confused and on edge and missing Kiku desperately, but Arthur seemed perfectly fine. If that was the case then what…

Everything started to fall into place as Elizabeta walked into the house, yelling to Alfred in a voice laced with agitation and bewilderment. Alfred's mom looked guilty, caught, and she was tense as she watched Alfred as if he were a ticking time bomb. Arthur didn't look nearly as apprehensive, but the look he was shooting Alfred was one the teenager was long familiar with. He'd seen it on Matthew, his parents, Kiku and Elizabeta when they found out...

Sympathy. Realization. Sadness and the faintest bit of anger.

It hit Alfred with the force of a freight train.

Arthur _knew_.

"What the fuck is this?" Alfred demanded. Apprehension was starting to melt away, fury sliding quickly into place.

"Alfred – " His mom began, but he cut her off.

"You _told_ him? Why? What possessed you? Mom, what the hell!"

This was Alfred's worst nightmare. Only he was allowed to do damage control where his own life was concerned; certainly not his mother, who was partially to blame for its destruction in the first place. She'd been quiet lately. Alfred should have known that she was plotting something, lurking in the shadows, trying to _push_ him when he was already heading in the right direction.

She'd poked a bear. Alfred already knew this wasn't going to end well and had no power to stop it.

"Alfred, let's just calm down a little." Arthur said slowly, though he only succeeded in redirecting Alfred's anger.

"I told you that I would tell you about what happened when I was ready!" Alfred shouted, and Arthur reeled back slightly. "And you promised that you would be patient. What happened to that guy, huh? Did he get _bored_ already?"

"Alfred, I didn't – "

"I am so _sick_ of people butting into my life and telling me what to do." Alfred felt a hand on his arm. Elizabeta. He ignored her. "If I wanted Arthur to know that I'm a fucking bastard kid whose parents cared more about sex than they did their soul mates, I would've told him, Mom."

His mom was shaking her head, hands worrying together in her lap. "That's not – "

"It is! I know how it works, I've slept with half the goddamn city by now." That was a gross exaggeration, but Alfred couldn't get his mouth to _stop moving._

But he knew what he was doing. He was done with this, with Arthur, _everything._ Alfred had finally started to accept his hand in life. He was growing comfortable with Arthur, with his brother, and with himself. Alfred had almost forgotten why he despised those stupid watches, but now he remembered.

It was all about control. Alfred had vowed to direct his own life, his own destiny, after Matthew told him the truth about their family. He realized he would have to look out for himself, trust no one, because if even soul mates couldn't stay together, what was the purpose of them? Alfred wouldn't allow himself to be jerked around and refused to end up like his parents, thrown together by circumstance.

Their patchwork family hadn't worked out. Alfred was the prime example of that. And by telling Arthur the reason why Alfred was the way he was, his mom was taking the control that Alfred coveted from him. She was pushing again.

Weeks of progress were just gone.

Alfred thought he'd been doing better, but if this was setting him off so much, maybe he hadn't changed at all.

"My shoulder is fine." Alfred said slowly, deliberately, every word directed at Arthur. "Delete my number. Forget that I exist, forget that we met, and get out of my house."

Arthur was the one panicking now. He was starting to stand up, looked as if he'd been told he had ten seconds left to live. " _Alfred –_ "

" _Get out!_ " Alfred bellowed, and he was gone, stalking up the stairs with a wide-eyed Elizabeta in tow.

He hurried into his room, tearing at his hair in frustration, and he heard Elizabeta shut the door behind them, quietly slide the lock into place.

"Do you have… _any_ idea what you just did?" She whispered, and Alfred gritted his teeth.

Matthew had said nearly the same thing that first morning, when Alfred walked out on Arthur the first time. Everything and nothing had changed since then.

"I saved myself years of _bull_ shit, that's what." Alfred snapped, stalking over to his window. "Turn on the PS4 or something. I want to make sure he fucking listened for a change."

Alfred needn't have worried. Arthur was already climbing into his car, his movements hurried, and Alfred glared at him although the man couldn't see.

God, he hated this. He hated it, hated Arthur just as much. Why couldn't Arthur have left him alone? Why did he have to be so kind and considerate, mysterious and infuriatingly smug about everything? _Why_ did Arthur have to fuck up _this bad?_

Alfred felt arms winding around his chest, a forehead between his shoulder blades.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Alfred." Elizabeta whispered wretchedly.

Alfred started sobbing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cranking stuff out for this story at this point. I want it to be over, not because I don't enjoy it, but because I love the ending so much. This may have been my favorite story to work on. Oh, how I love my snarky Alfred. You guys are hilarious though. You reacted so badly to what he did, and I was so grateful for that. Alfred felt as if he was in the right, but he really wasn't. He threw a fucking temper tantrum, simple as that.
> 
> Two more chapters to go!

Days went by.

Alfred didn't finish his rehab sessions and his parents didn't make him. He mostly stayed in his room, ignoring Elizabeta's phone calls and Kiku's Skype ones, didn't want them to see how bad it had gotten, how thoroughly he'd messed up.

And everything was just that: a mess. Alfred couldn't focus on anything and didn't want to. Frankly, he was so ashamed of how badly he'd overreacted and refused to face anybody who knew about it. He knew he'd fucked up, but he'd already decided he wasn't going to do anything about it.

He and Arthur were both better off without one another. They were at different stages in their lives, had different priorities, and Alfred was tired of working himself up into a frenzy over it. He was going to take the hateful words he'd spewed at Arthur and follow them himself, try to forget about everything and move on with his life.

It wasn't going to be easy, but Alfred had no other choice but to try.

Alfred was drifting in and out of sleep when he heard his bedroom door creaking open. It was about three in the afternoon, and he burrowed further into his comforter, screwing his eyes shut, as if that would make him disappear completely. His mattress dipped as someone sat down, and Alfred realized that his visitor – whoever it was – wasn't going to leave him be.

"What?" He asked, loud enough to be heard underneath the covers. He hadn't spoken in a while.

"Can I talk with you for a minute?"

Alfred relaxed somewhat. His dad had always been easier to be around. Not to mention that he'd yet to face his mom since he went off on her. "I'd prefer if you didn't, but I doubt that'll stop you."

"Did I ever tell you about what happened to my soul mate?"

That caught Alfred's attention, though he was surprised his dad was just diving straight into the deep stuff. Slowly, so as not to seem too interested, he peaked his head out of the covers and peered over at his dad's blurry form. The policeman's expression changed slightly when Alfred revealed himself, and Alfred could only imagine how awful he looked.

He didn't answer his father's question. They both knew they'd never dared to discuss that before.

"Well," his dad began, tearing his gaze away from Alfred to stare at the wall near the door instead, "I don't remember this at all, but when I was six months old, my watch just… stopped."

Alfred blinked. Watches didn't just _stop_ working. Until they fell off, they were like organs, working of their own accord so long as the people they were attached to were still alive. Of course, if one half of a pair were to die, then… "Oh, Dad – "

"I still had thirty four years left on it. Your grandma told me that she was giving me a bath and noticed that it had been stuck on the same series of numbers for more than ten minutes. The next morning, it fell off completely."

Alfred couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was a show that aired on the OWN Network that Kiku used to watch with his mom on Sundays. Each week, the show followed the story of a guest whose watch had suddenly stopped working one day. It was about trying to find out who the person's soul mate had been, if they could learn how they'd died.

It was exceedingly difficult to match soul mates who had never met, especially when one or the other was dead, but it did happen. Some people just couldn't move on after something that traumatic, and Alfred had respected that before, though he didn't understand; and now he knew that his dad was one of those people.

"I don't know what happened to them." His dad went on, his tone thoughtful. He didn't sound sad. He'd had years to come to terms with it. "I was so young when my watch stopped working. For all I know, their pregnancy could've been terminated, they were stillborn, had an accident… anything could've happened to them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Alfred asked quietly, still propped up awkwardly on one elbow.

"I was the only kid whose soul mate had died so young." His dad went on, as if Alfred hadn't spoken at all. "The guys were always so careful around me, as if I'd been damned to a future of loneliness. I think I resented the clocks almost as much as you did when I was growing up. I didn't think it was fair for me to be set up with someone who passed away before either of us had a chance to live."

Alfred had an idea as to where everything was headed. He still didn't know why or how his parents had gotten together, why Jordan Williams apparently wasn't a suitable husband or soul mate, but he knew that he was about to find out.

"One day," this was reminiscent of the days when his dad would tell Alfred stories before he left for his night shift, before he'd become Police Chief, "I went out with a group of friends after our shifts ended down at the station. We went to this small diner a few blocks away, and that was where I met your mother.

"She looked so tired." Alfred noticed a newfound tension in his dad's arm muscles. "She was one of three waitresses working that night, and she was running around making sure everything was running smoothly. Even then she was gorgeous. I know you don't believe in this stuff, but it really was love at first sight for me."

"I believe you." Alfred replied.

"I was completely smitten after only ten minutes. I kept going back every night after work. To make matters worse, she had a wedding ring, so I knew she'd found her soul mate and that I had no right to pursue her. Believe you me, Al, it was _torture_."

Most people would probably smile at that point. Listening to the story of how your parents fell in love was supposed to be a good thing – slightly weird, but good. Alfred just wasn't feeling it. He didn't think he was capable of smiling at that point.

"But nearly a month later, I noticed your mom wasn't wearing her ring. I asked her about it when she came to take my order, and the look she gave me was… well, she couldn't believe a police officer was asking her about her marital status. I won't bore you with the details, because there is a reason I'm telling you all of this, but she and I continued to grow closer until she felt comfortable enough to tell me what her married life was like."

"Was Jordan abusive?" Alfred asked. His mom wasn't exactly his favorite person, but he hoped to God that no one had ever laid a hand on her; or Matthew.

"No, not at all." His dad said. "Believe me, if he'd even looked at Caroline in a way that made her uncomfortable, I would've locked him up personally. No, the two of them just had… certain expectations that weren't met. As soul mates, they both thought everything was going to be clean-cut and perfect from the get-go, but it wasn't. They argued too much to be healthy."

"That's what Matt said." Alfred murmured, thinking back to his last conversation with his brother before he'd left. He hadn't been answering Matthew's phone calls either. "How does that work? Aren't soul mates supposed to be perfect for one another?"

"Soul mates still argue, Alfred." He gave Alfred a pointed look as he said it, and the teenager's cheeks burned with shame. "Your mom and Jordan grew to resent one another over time. They married soon after they met and had Matthew almost a year after. It was just too much too soon, for the both of them. Jordan wanted an out just as much as your mother did."

That was just… _beyond_ confusing, but also strangely enlightening. Alfred didn't know anyone – aside from himself – that willingly chose to separate from his or her soul mate. All this time, Alfred had been convinced that either Jordan or his mom had done something, cheated or snapped and ruined their marriage, but to hear that it hadn't been like that at all?

"There was a moment of weakness." His dad sighed. "We'd known one another for almost a year, and while your mother had come to love me, neither of us wanted to do anything while she was still married to Jordan. But one thing led to another, and – "

"I get it." Alfred said quickly, lifting a hand to gesture for his dad to stop talking.

"We loved each other, but neither of us was proud of how we'd decided to come together." He turned his head to look at Alfred again, and the young teen was mystified to find that his dad's eyes were slightly wet. "You were born because of it though, so I'll never regret it."

Alfred squirmed slightly, didn't know what to say. He wasn't affectionate with his parents and they in turn weren't all that affectionate with him. He'd never doubted that they loved him, but he knew he was a handful, to put it lightly. It hadn't always been that way, of course, but Alfred doubted his parents enjoyed looking back and remembering how easy of a child he'd once been.

"Didn't you guys use a condom or something?" Alfred asked, not as embarrassed as he thought he would be.

"Like I said. One thing led to another. We weren't exactly prepared." His dad chuckled, and Alfred wondered if his mom had mentioned the whole 'I've slept with half the goddamn city' thing. "But your mom didn't say anything to Jordan until she was certain she was pregnant. They both agreed that separating was a wise decision."

"Under what grounds?"

"Irreconcilable differences, I believe. Jordan never brought up a case of adultery. The whole thing was done quietly."

This was crazy. Jordan had just _let_ his soul mate go without a fight? Had they really been that unhappy?

The knot that had formed in Alfred's stomach after Arthur left twisted with quiet agony. All these years and he'd been blaming both of his parents for the way his life turned out; but he hadn't known the whole story. His dad had lost his soul mate just six months into his life, and his mom had parted from hers on no uncertain terms with both parties in agreement.

Alfred had been convinced his birth was the reason everything had fallen apart. He'd thought everyone blamed him. His conception had helped the process along, sure, but it hadn't caused the separation. Even without him, it would've happened eventually.

"Matt said – " Alfred hesitated, thinking back to that day, the contempt in his older brother's eyes, his sneer. "He said it was my fault."

"It wasn't, Alfred. Your mother never talked with Matthew about how unhappy she and Jordan were until he was much older. That was a mistake on her part, mine as well, but we never imagined… " He trailed off, sighing to himself. "We never imagined the effect it would have on you."

"Hm. No kidding."

"I'm sorry for… making you feel like you had no choice in the matter." His dad went on to say. "After the restaurant, I told your mom it would be best to back off a little, but she's stubborn. You may not be able to see this now, but we only want what's best for you. I spent most of my life thinking that I would always be alone. I never imagined I'd find someone like your mother in this place. From the very start, I didn't want that for you.

"And then your mom… " Alfred was tired of crying, but he couldn't stop. He'd been so _cruel_ to everyone. "Well, she just wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. She knows how it feels when hearts change, when plans go awry. She wants you to have the ultimate happiness she couldn't attain for herself."

His parents were unfathomably strong people. How did his dad live knowing that he was second-rate, that no matter how much they grew to love one another, Alfred's mom's heart would be forever divided? And then there was his mom. He wouldn't be surprised if she sometimes wondered what would have happened had her second husband's soul mate lived.

Alfred had been defying the system all this time, and yet the prime example of choosing ones own fate even when presented with predetermined perfection was right in front of him all along.

"I ruined everything, Dad." Alfred said, feeling wretched. "God, what is wrong with me?"

"You're a spoiled brat, for starters." His dad said with a slight snort, and Alfred had nothing to say to the contrary. "I'm partially to blame for that. After you changed, your mother and I felt too guilty to discipline you correctly. We let you get away with far too much for far too long. I hope you know that stops soon."

"I figured."

"And we need to address the fact that apparently you're no longer a virgin."

"About that – "

"I don't want to hear it." His dad said, shaking his head and lifting both his hands in an almost pleading gesture. "I can't promise I won't walk out of here with an address book and handcuffs. At least tell me they were all legal."

" ... "

"Consensual?"

"Well, _duh,_ you taught me how to kick someone's ass when I was, like, ten. If I didn't want it, it wasn't happening. And since we're being honest, I feel the need to say that I usually topped."

Alfred noticed his dad's wince, and he almost felt like laughing, but it passed quickly. If his secret was compromised, he'd at least have some fun with it while he could.

"We love you, you know." His dad said eventually, reaching over to pat the lump underneath the sheets that was Alfred's leg before standing up. "I just wanted to give you some insight on a few things. I don't like seeing you this down, Alfred."

"I love you guys, too. And I know you don't." Alfred replied quietly, sitting up and reaching for his glasses on his nightstand. There was too much on his mind, so there was no use trying to go back to sleep. "It's just been… a rough week."

"I think you need to apologize to your mother whenever you feel like coming downstairs. She told me that she didn't call Arthur, he came here on his own."

Alfred blinked, staring over at his dad's form in the doorway, clear now that he was wearing his glasses. "He did?"

The policeman nodded. "He said there was something he wanted to tell you. When your mom said you were at the airport, he was just going to leave, but she told him to stay and wait until you got back."

"So… she _didn't_ tell him why I hated the watches?"

"She told him that Matthew used to isolate you and that's why you were so hesitant about opening up to people. But no, you let that cat out of the bag on your own."

His dad left immediately after, shutting the door quietly behind him. If Alfred hadn't felt like a fucking scumbag before, then he really did now. That certainly explained that look Arthur had given him, as if Alfred was a wounded animal. He knew how much Matthew meant to Alfred, and the idea that Matthew had once abused that devotion had probably spiked a piteous reaction.

Alfred groaned, flopping back down on his pillows. His dad was right. Alfred may have thought that he was mature, above it all, but he was really just a spoiled brat. What he'd done after he and Elizabeta returned from the airport was nothing short of a temper-tantrum. Distrustful of his mother after all she'd pulled, he jumped to conclusions and ruined a good thing that had serious potential to turn into something wonderful.

How had his dad managed, losing his soul mate like that? Alfred couldn't even imagine how that would've felt. Even if he'd hated the stupid thing, as a freshman in high school, if his watch had suddenly stopped working… if Arthur had…

Alfred missed Arthur. On top of losing Matthew and Kiku, it was nearly unbearable. His brother and best friend were miles away, but Arthur was in the same city. He was attainable. If only Alfred hadn't screwed it all up.

But he had to wonder… what had Arthur wanted to tell him? It must have been important if he'd risked the possibility of coming over without calling Alfred first to make sure he was home. Maybe it had been a spur of the moment type of thing.

The urge to call Arthur was so strong Alfred had to roll over onto his side, turning his back on the device he'd spent the past few days ignoring. He'd never felt such an intense need just to hear someone's voice before. Alfred sniffed, pushing his glasses up slightly to wipe at the fresh tears welling in his eyes.

He was fucking pathetic. Juvenile and pathetic in every way; but he wasn't stupid. He knew what was happening to him, had known the moment he saw Arthur's car pulling out of his driveway.

It had taken a while, but what Alfred was feeling… it wasn't stupid, as he'd always believed. It wasn't unrealistic, it wasn't fake, and it wasn't even a waste of his time; but damn, did it hurt.

He felt sick to his stomach because he was in love, and he'd won and lost it through no fault but his own.

Alfred F. Jones was fucking heartbroken. If only the dick-bags he'd fought with at school could see him now. Alfred portrayed himself as hard, but faced with anything emotional, he was a downright mess. Everyone would just laugh it up.

Alfred frowned, kicking away his comforter on impulse. He sat up, maneuvering himself until he could crawl over to the edge of the bed and slide off it. His trashcan was almost overflowing, untouched for weeks, and Alfred stooped over to pick it up and tip it over.

Its contents fell to the ground – mostly empty Gatorade bottles and bags of chips, the occasional soiled tissue – and Alfred fell to his knees, sorting through the pile diligently until he found his watch.

He hadn't thought about it in weeks, but as he turned the stupid thing over in his hands, Alfred couldn't believe he'd left it to rot for so long. As he stared at it, he remembered his exchange with Matthew and Kiku, his conversation with Arthur the morning everything went wrong.

He'd made a silent promise to Matthew to get his life back on track, to move on from the bad feelings their mixed blood had created.

Kiku had told him not to do anything stupid, to smile as he used to – essentially, to get back to the way he'd been before.

And Arthur had told him to love while he still could, to remember and wait for those he cared about, because no matter what, they would return.

Arthur was everything Alfred had wanted and needed for far too long, and it was laughable that it had taken Alfred so long to realize that. Arthur could take a joke. He was hard-working, empathetic, kind, and he was pretty damn gorgeous; but that wasn't even the best part. Arthur had _zero_ tolerance for Alfred's bullshit. If that wasn't a sign that he was a keeper, then nothing was.

He didn't know how much damage his outburst had truly done, but he wasn't going to allow Arthur's watch to be thrown away as his had been, at least not without a fight.

The blue-eyed teen stood up straight, invigorated for the first time in days. Having spent most of his time in bed, wallowing in self-pity, he was going to have to shower; and shave, brush his teeth, find clean clothes ( _God,_ why did social interaction require so much _effort_?), apologize to his mom, and ask for permission to leave.

It was time to face the music.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Near the end, and with it comes the confrontation you've been waiting fifteen chapters for. Thank you all for stomaching through it for the sake of realism – as much of that as there is in a story about soul mate watches.
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies! I think most of the questions you might still have after this - like the numbers on Arthur's clipboard near the beginning - will be addressed in the epilogue.

When Alfred was seven or so, his grandmother – God rest her soul – told him that if he wanted something in life, he had to work for it.

Cliché message of the day, but those were her exact words. If Alfred wanted to be great, he had to put in the work and expect no favors from anyone. He had to rely on his own skills, focus on his own goals, and if he did that, the world was his for the taking.

He hadn't paid much attention at the time. Alfred remembered that he'd been trying to leave the house to go ride bikes with Kiku when the old woman ambushed him, and he'd shifted from foot to foot, whining out a, " _Grandma_ ," every few seconds.

She'd been there for his birth and for every moment after, and she'd lived with them until she died when Alfred was twelve. They'd been exceptionally close, once, and Alfred was eternally grateful that she'd passed away before his drastic change in personality. If a stroke hadn't killed her by then, the shock certainly would have.

But back to the life lesson. Alfred had been itching to go until she said that those rules also applied to his soul mate. _That_ was when he'd slowed down and listened, wanting to know everything when it came to soul mates.

She said that even a match made in Heaven wasn't going to be perfect at first. Upon meeting, the attraction would be there, but it was up to both parties to nurture it into something that truly felt like it was destined to be.

"Happiness like that isn't just handed to you." All thoughts of bike riding had been abandoned at that point. Alfred was taking notes. "Even destiny isn't that easy. But I know that if you put in the work, the person you'll meet ten years from now will be your catharsis."

"What's a cath-ar-sis, Grandma?"

"Purification, Alfred. You can cry your eyes out and they'll make you feel reborn after with just their presence. They'll make you laugh harder than you ever have before, Lord help your poor soul mate. But they'll fill spaces in you that you didn't know you were missing, I promise."

"I just have to work for it?"

"Of course! If you don't, then it isn't really yours, now is it?"

She would've loved Arthur, his quick-wit and gentle nature. Grandma Taylor, who expected only the best from her youngest grandson because she believed he could do it. Alfred forgot about that particular exchange in light of everything else that happened years later, but he remembered it with blinding clarity as he drove to Arthur's house, realized he'd have to rely on his grandmother's advice if he wanted to change his and Arthur's relationship.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to get to Arthur's after tidying himself up and finding out exactly where Arthur lived. Alfred was jittery the entire way there, and it only stopped once Alfred was parked in the street in front of what was hopefully Arthur's mailbox.

Arthur's car was in the driveway, so that was reassuring; but another car was behind his, one Alfred didn't recognize. So, Arthur had company. Glorious. Alfred could confess and make a fool out of himself while doing it. He probably deserved the humiliation.

He noticed a basketball goal in the driveway as he walked up. It was most likely for Peter's use, and Alfred took a moment to hope that the car didn't belong to anyone from Arthur's family. He probably wouldn't be able to look at them without thinking about his totally attractive panic attack at the restaurant.

Before he could talk himself into going home, Alfred marched up the steps on the porch, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

He shifted his weight back and forth between his legs as he waited, perking up slightly when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Alfred's bravado nearly faltered when a woman who most definitely wasn't Arthur's mom answered the door. In fact, it was that woman from the center who almost plowed Alfred down in her haste to leave the building.

Short, though her mere presence was enough to make Alfred feel small next to her. Thick and all the more attractive for it. Chestnut hair that curled at the shoulders, large chartreuse eyes, a tan that reached every inch of visible skin, and a small scar beneath her left eye. Alfred didn't normally pay attention to details, didn't necessarily care, but there was no misunderstanding that she was competition.

The woman seemed to size him up as well, and when she finally met his gaze, a broad smile spread across her face. "You must be the soul mate!" She exclaimed, her voice slightly accented, and from somewhere within the house, Alfred heard the telltale thump of something heavy hitting the floor. "Oh, you are very handsome indeed."

Alfred was dumbstruck as the woman stepped out of the house, toting her purse and car keys. He took a step back to make room for her, but she followed his every move, reaching out to take his face in her hands and pull him down to examine him more thoroughly. She tilted his head this way and that, and Alfred let her.

"You pass." She declared suddenly, releasing him. "At least the person Arthur left me for is as beautiful as he is."

Alfred began to sputter, and the woman giggled, extending a hand to him. "I'm Catarina Silva. It's nice to meet you."

"Um." Alfred glanced briefly over Catarina's shoulder. Arthur was standing in the doorway that led into another room further into the house. He looked shell-shocked, and Alfred looked away again. He took Catarina's offered hand. "Alfred Jones."

"I love your handshake." She gushed, using her other hand to pat Alfred's before pulling away completely and beginning to move around him. "Nice and firm. Take care, you two!"

Alfred's heart was racing as she walked away. A hurricane had just blown through. "So, um." He stepped into the house since Arthur apparently wasn't going to move, shutting the front door behind him. The décor inside was simple, everything meticulously kept and clean. Alfred somehow hadn't expected anything less. "That was your girlfriend?"

" _Former_ girlfriend." Arthur replied tersely, though Alfred had known that. Catarina had said as much, after all. Alfred just wanted Arthur to verbally confirm it. The shock was gone from Arthur's expression, and while he didn't look even remotely angry, Alfred could tell that he was. "What are you doing here?"

"Is she… Spanish?"

"Portuguese. Alfred, _what_ are you doing here? Better yet, how did you find out where I live?"

"My dad's the Chief of Police, Arthur. He knows things, not limited to the address of his son's soul mate." Alfred took a deep breath. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to say. "I came to… apologize. The way I acted, the things I said to you, they weren't right. I just – "

"Let me guess. You got scared again."

Alfred huffed, put off by the blank expression on Arthur's face. "No. I just got mad. I thought you and my mom were going behind my back and scheming to get us together or something."

Something in Arthur's eyes changed slightly. "You really thought I would do something like that?"

"Honestly, I feel pretty stupid for even thinking it." Alfred sighed, and Arthur finally moved out of the archway, approaching Alfred cautiously. "I just didn't know why you went over there without telling me. What did you even want?"

"It hardly matters now." Arthur said dismissively, and for the first time, the thought that Arthur might not forgive him crossed Alfred's mind. He refused to panic, because he'd gotten himself into this mess, but it would be unsettling if Arthur wrote him off so easily. "If that's all you came here for, then – "

"It's not!" Alfred blurted out, perhaps a little too loudly, and Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, um – " He could do this. Arthur already knew the gist of it, anyway. All Alfred had to do was elaborate. "My mom told you that Matt used to treat me like shit, right?"

Arthur scowled, though Alfred knew his irritation wasn't directed at him this time. "Yes."

"Well, that's because he blamed me for the fact that our mom left his dad." Alfred explained, and Arthur's eyes finally flickered to meet his own. "No one had ever told me about it before. I didn't know that we were half brothers. Matt told me right after my eighth grade graduation. I changed after that. For the worse, I guess."

Arthur's features contorted, and he opened his mouth to say something, though Alfred cut him off. "I idolized my parents. I wanted a relationship like theirs with my soul mate, but then I learned that everything was a lie and I couldn't handle it. I thought my mom had cheated on her soul mate with my dad, which she did I guess, and that the whole watch thing was flawed. I didn't believe in it anymore.

"But my dad talked to me today." Alfred continued, smiling slightly to himself. Arthur stared at his mouth. "He said my mom and her first husband weren't happy together. They didn't put in the work to nourish their relationship, and even if they were soul mates, it all fell apart. That had nothing to do with me. But I found that out too late, and I hurt you. And I'm sorry for that, I really am."

Arthur looked at him quietly for a moment, and Alfred took the silence and utilized it, observed his soul mate's features in case things didn't work out in Alfred's favor. Catarina was onto something, though her observation of Alfred's own appearance was horrifically skewed. Arthur really was beautiful, though Alfred would shoot himself in the foot if anyone ever heard him say that.

His blond hair was messy – that was nothing new – but even now it just made Arthur look rugged, not unkempt. The eyebrows that Alfred had come to think of fondly were mostly covered by thick fringes of Arthur's hair, and his eyes – God, his eyes – were large and expressive, a shade of viridian that Alfred would forever associate with Arthur. So many freckles, the occasional acne scar, piercings, and lips that were begging to be kissed, licked, bitten, _everything._ Alfred ached just looking at them.

This man would haunt Alfred's dreams for the rest of his life, no matter if he was there in the waking world or not.

"I happen to like you as you are now." Arthur said eventually, and Alfred stilled. "You're a pain in the arse, but it's easily overlooked."

" _Easily?_ " Alfred snorted, disbelieving. "I haven't heard that one before."

Arthur finally cracked a smile, his features softening and his eyelids lowering. "I forgive you, I suppose. It's ridiculous that I can't stay mad with you even when I'm fuming. You really should let people finish when they're trying to speak to you, though."

"I was in a state! Kiku had just left and I was in no mood to be fucked with."

"Obviously."

Alfred heaved a large sigh. "So, Catarina Silva, huh?" Arthur looked somewhat sheepish, though Alfred didn't know why. "I'm assuming she was the one behind the phone calls?"

"Either her or my mother. Neither of them appreciated the fact that I ended our relationship so abruptly."

"When did you break up with her exactly?"

"Do you want me to reply honestly?" Alfred threw Arthur an unimpressed look in reply. "Immediately after you and I met."

Alfred's mouth popped open. He hadn't been able to think about it before, too worried about apologizing correctly, but Arthur had a _girlfriend._ Or an ex girlfriend, rather. Somehow, Alfred hadn't pegged Arthur as the type to engage in other relationships before he met his soul mate, not after the whole "best possible suggestion" thing.

The best part? Alfred wasn't even all that jealous. The fact that Arthur had lived his life as he chose before he met Alfred was refreshing, and it made the teen love him all the more deeply.

"How long did you two date?" He asked curiously.

"Well, I'm twenty-three, so… five years."

"Five fucking years? And you left her for… _Arthur_! You hadn't even heard me talk! I _walked out on you!_ "

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I wish you'd stop reminding me. I wasn't going to let you slip away from me without a fight, Alfred, and it wouldn't have been fair to Cat if I continued to date her while pursuing you, so I ended it. We're still friends, of course. After a while those phone calls at work were just her trying to annoy me. In case you didn't notice, she doesn't have many inhibitions."

"Obviously." Alfred muttered, somewhat lost in thought. As if he hadn't felt bad enough for treating Arthur as he had in the beginning. To hear that Arthur had broken up with a person he'd dated for five years just for him was just icing on the guilt cake. "Wow. I can't even… this is crazy. No one chooses me. So, you were straight before you met me? Are you bi now?"

"Does that really matter?"

"Guess not. I'm just curious." Not to mention that it was a huge ego stroke if he _had_ made Arthur rethink his sexuality, soul mates or not.

Alfred glanced up at Arthur only to find the man staring at the ground, hands on his hips. The more Alfred watched him, the more he could see the fine tremors working their way throughout Arthur's body. "Arthur?"

"I'm sorry." Arthur said, keeping his head down. "I just – I'm trying to work up the nerve to tell you what I wanted to say when I went to your house, so could you be quiet for a few minutes?"

Alfred nodded but didn't say anything, as he was instructed. Frankly, he had absolutely no idea what Arthur was going to say to him.

"Do you remember when I told you that my parents are tired people?" Arthur finally asked, lifting his head to look at Alfred once more. The blue-eyed teen nodded again. "They've always been like that. They weren't all that loving toward us growing up. I don't think they should've had children at all.

"Anyway, whenever I would get in fights with my older brothers, they would tell me that I'd come so close to being aborted and that they wished our parents had gone through with it." Alfred's mouth ran dry. "They didn't mean it, of course. I certainly said very hurtful things in the heat of the moment, but they used that specific one so often. Naturally, I grew curious and asked my mum about it."

For the first time, Alfred noticed a cat sitting on the steps – Tori. She was white-furred with patches of light brown here and there, and her green eyes were keen as she watched Arthur. Even she could tell that her master was agitated.

"She didn't deny it." _Stop._ "She said she'd come very close to terminating the pregnancy and decided against it because her conscience got in the way." _Just stop._ "This happened right before we left for America."

Alfred was going to throw up. His stomach was burning, his tongue growing heavy, and he wanted so badly to screech at Arthur to stop talking. What was it with brothers wanting to ruin one another's lives? Was that what made Alfred and Arthur soul mates, their striking similarities as well as their obvious differences?

If Arthur's mom had… gotten rid of him – Alfred would never use the "A" word again for as long as he lived, not after this – what would have happened in Alfred's life? Even if Alfred hadn't been conceived at that point, would he have been born with a broken watch? Or would he have been reassigned, as clinical as that sounded when referring to soul mates.

He didn't want to think about it. A world without Arthur was inconceivable. If Alfred had been forced to live in that universe, without even knowing about Arthur, he was convinced he would've known that something important was missing.

But Alfred didn't say anything, and Arthur kept talking. "I came so close to not being born at all. I don't think it would've mattered to either of my parents if I hadn't been. My mum was so unapologetic about the whole thing."

"That's horrible!"

Arthur shrugged, shifting his weight onto his left leg. "When Peter was born, I was a little angry that they'd dare have another child, but I don't begrudge them anything. To be honest, I don't really care anymore. We aren't close and I hardly see them, so I don't think about it. But I have issues trusting people. Growing up, I didn't think I was good enough, not for my family, not for anybody. Not even my soul mate."

Bull. If anyone was giving but not receiving in their dysfunctional relationship, it was definitely Arthur. Alfred wanted desperately to change that, now more than ever.

"If my own parents couldn't truly care for me, how could someone else?" Arthur mused, his expression carefully controlled, but Alfred saw the sorrow in his eyes. "With parents as cold and frank as mine, I had to learn to keep my insecurities to myself. I didn't talk about it with anybody for a long time. Then I met Cat. She chose me of her own volition, and I chose her in return. I didn't have the power to choose with a soul mate, much like with my parents. I didn't want to be tossed aside again."

"And I made your fears reality." Alfred croaked, taking a step back. "I'm sorry. After what happened, I'd understand if you got back together with Catarina." He started to laugh, slightly hysterical. "It was stupid. If you've only been with women your whole life, then why – "

"What is it that you don't understand?" Arthur snapped, and Alfred flinched, suddenly confronted by an Arthur he'd yet to see, one furious and volatile and exasperated beyond all reason. "Why do you think I'm telling you all of this? Dammit, Alfred, I don't fucking care about your anatomy or biological make up!"

Alfred didn't move a single inch as Arthur stepped forward and made a grab for him, cradling Alfred's face in hands that jolted with the faintest of tremors. He suddenly couldn't breathe, though it had nothing to do with panic.

"Don't you see?" Arthur went on, voice considerably softer but still roaring in Alfred's ears. "We're bloody _soul mates_. I don't understand it myself, and if anyone did we probably wouldn't be having this problem, but when we made eye contact, I _saw_ that you were home, that someone was looking back at me. And even if you walked away, you saw me, too. I'm certain of it. That's what being soul mates _is_. I was always too skittish to admit, even before we met, that you would be everything I wanted in life. I realized how right I was the moment I saw you."

Maybe to anybody else, Arthur was acting a little insane. He seemed so desperate for Alfred to understand – to look at him and _understand –_ that his entire world would collapse if Alfred didn't; or couldn't.

But Alfred understood. Of course he did. He may have walked away that day, but in that split second before their watches went off, Alfred's respiratory system had shuddered to a halt. He'd barely recognized it, refused to believe it, but Arthur had finally put words to that feeling.

The first thing Alfred felt when he looked at Arthur that day was recognition. He'd _known_ the man without even knowing his name. Like Arthur said: they made eye contact and Alfred knew that somebody was home behind those piercing green irises. He'd known, and Alfred's being had recognized Arthur's right away. He'd seen straight through to his soul without truly _seeing_ it, as crazy as that sounded.

None of this made a damn lick of sense and yet it felt as easy as breathing.

"You scare me." Alfred said, and Arthur's expression switched from furious determination to raw panic in a matter of seconds. "You open your mouth and I fall more in love with you with every word. Usually it's the exact opposite. The power you have over me… I can't stand it."

Arthur just looked stunned now, still grasping Alfred's face and staring down at him like he'd admitted to actually being a woman or some shit. Alfred felt just as astounded, if not more so, and his face and neck were slowly beginning to burn with his mortification.

"Did – Did you just say you _love_ me?"

Alfred snorted slightly, hesitant as he lifted his right hand to grasp at Arthur's left wrist. "If you expected some romantic ass confession, sorry, but that's not happening. I realized I loved you literally an hour ago, and I had zero time to come up with something on the fly. Not to mention that it's worse now that I know you aren't a conformist and had a _girlfriend_ before you met me. What even is that? I should be jealous, not fucking charmed. Take it or leave it, Arthur."

"Only an idiot would rebuff that confession." Arthur murmured, the look in his eyes far away and glassy. He wouldn't meet Alfred's stare, but his hands slid down from the teenager's cheeks to rest about his neck, fitted over the skin there like a collar. Alfred closed his eyes, focused on every swipe of Arthur's thumb over his jaw. "I never thought I'd get one out of you."

"You obviously don't expect much from me." As hazy as his thinking was, Alfred couldn't begin to imagine why Arthur doubted what they had for even a moment. The many weeks Alfred spent ignoring Arthur, hating him, doubting him; they just didn't exist. The teenager honestly couldn't believe he didn't fall hard and fast at the very beginning. "Why?"

"I don't think you understand the power you have over me, either." Arthur admitted, his voice pinched. Alfred couldn't open his eyes, didn't want to see Arthur cry. "You're a kid. You're brash and pig-headed and incredibly difficult to get along with. I never know what you're thinking, sometimes you act like you hate me, and I'm bloody _terrified_ of what a future with you entails."

None of that sounded too promising, but Alfred wasn't worried, not anymore. He had no reason to be. He'd never felt so warm or so certain in his life.

"I broke up with a wonderful woman who I'd dated for nearly five years with little to no hesitation. That's not me, Alfred! I'd never even heard you speak before and yet you were the end behind all means."

"Why'd you do it, then?" Alfred inquired, finally opening his eyes to look up at Arthur. "If you knew I'd be everything you wanted, why did you start dating her? Aside from the fact that you could choose her, that is."

"The mere idea of your existence was too good to be true." Arthur replied. He wasn't crying as Alfred had expected, but he looked achingly desperate, stripped clean of any and all defenses he'd perfected over the years. "I didn't trust it. I lived my life expecting to be let down by you. So, I made… other arrangements."

"I know I walked away, but… no matter what, I would've come back eventually." Alfred said. "Why wouldn't I? You're perfect."

Arthur cracked a small smile. "You'd be the first to think so."

"Good. I want to have all of your firsts, though I know that isn't possible at this point in your life." Arthur choked out a laugh, and Alfred smiled, pressing himself against Arthur's front. "Yeah, I'm seventeen. I'm immature and abrasive and I've been told I'm the King of sass. But I care about you _so_ much, and I'll be with you as long as you'll let me. Probably even longer. Sorry, but you can't get rid of me."

They were a motley pair. Alfred never thought his soul mate would be good enough for him and Arthur never thought he would be good enough for his soul mate. How he hadn't noticed it before would plague Alfred for the rest of his life, but at least now he had Arthur.

Arthur Kirkland, his ridiculous life partner who ended a steady relationship all because he'd seen something worth pursuing in a teenage boy's acidic, azure stare.

"I think I'll keep you around for a while yet." Arthur said with a deep chuckle. Alfred recognized something in his eyes, an intense look he'd seen on many of his bed partners over the years. For the first time, Alfred was actually comforted by that look, not just set ablaze. "It's a marvel to have the person I care about so deeply say they love me in return. It might take a while to get used to."

"You said you loved Catarina, and she's known you way longer than I have. She obviously loves you back. What makes me so different?"

Arthur hesitated, probably wondering if he was being baited into a trap. "Cat and I have been friends since we were children. I can't tell you that I don't love her still, but… you're you, Alfred. I love you more than anything. Most of all."

Alfred burst out laughing.

Arthur released him and took a step back, startled by the teenager's sudden outburst. Alfred, to his credit, felt badly for laughing in the face of Arthur's confession, but he just couldn't stop. It bounced off the walls, reverberated in their ears, and Tori stood and trotted up the stairs, though escape was impossible.

"I'm sorry, but this is just fan-fucking-tastic." Alfred wheezed, tears building at the corners of his eyes as he clutched at his stomach, trying to ignore the stitch he could feel in it. "You're my catharsis, you big, British idiot."

"Jesus Christ." Arthur said, watching Alfred with eyes blown wide. "Don't scare me like that! I thought I was being Catfished or something."

"Wrong show, but nice try." Alfred said, still trying to recover. "Oh, God, do you think we would've been this perfect for each other if Matt hadn't fucked me up as a kid? Would I have understood what you needed from me?"

"Are you… okay?"

"I'm _bloody_ brilliant!" Alfred exclaimed, though the deep scowl on Arthur's face only threw him into another fit of giggles. "Ah, man. This is nice. I'm not certain about a lot of stuff, but you, sir, I know _exactly_ what to do with you."

Arthur shook his head, exasperated. "And what would that be?"

"Easy. All I have to do is keep you close. You need me just as much as I need you, I can see that now. So… be my boyfriend. Or lover, whatever term makes you happy. Wait, hold on, you never answered my question. Does this mean you're bi? Or are you straight with an affinity for my soul?"

Arthur stared at Alfred, seemed to take everything in. Alfred knew what was coming and kept up his easy smile, silently encouraging the man standing before him, letting him know that it was okay, that he didn't have to hide anymore. It would have to happen if the two of them wanted to move on from their terrible pasts together.

And even though he still had a lot of growing up to do, Alfred wanted that. More than anything. Most of all.

Eventually, Arthur uttered a desperate, "God _dammit_ ," and began to cry.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogues always take forever for me to write. I think it's my subconscious not wanting everything to end so soon. But I've had fun with this story, and you guys are so awesome! Thank you for your support throughout this fic's run. It went by super fast, didn't it?
> 
> I know I haven't been replying to comments, but if you have any lingering questions, feel free to ask! I'll do my best to answer them.

Arthur was beyond exhausted when he finally pulled up in his driveway after three weeks of absence.

He could deal with family reunions. Contrary to what Alfred believed, Arthur held a deep respect and admiration for the majority of his relatives, but he didn't appreciate having to put his life on hold to travel back to Lancaster with his parents and brothers.

Not to mention that hiding the fact that he was married was an adventure and a half. His younger cousins were just too observant, took the lack of a watch and his ring and put two and two together before blurting their findings to the rest of the family. Then came the questions as to who Arthur's soul mate was, when they'd gotten married and why none of the family was invited, and – perhaps most importantly – why Arthur hadn't brought them along.

Pushing past a cloud of fatigue, Arthur killed the engine and pulled his keys out of the ignition. He knew he had a multitude of bags in the back of the car, but he opted to ignore them for as long as he could, wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

The house was cool when he stepped inside, a pleasant contrast to the humid summer air, and Arthur heard the jingling of tags before he even managed to shut the front door.

"There's my girl." Arthur said as Tori came bounding down the stairs, and he stooped over to pick her up once she reached the bottom step. She started to purr, rubbing her head into his chest, and Arthur smiled, nearly sagging with the relief of being home at long last.

He started up the steps. It was oddly silent in the house, which didn't make sense since Alfred was normally home by four thirty on the weekdays. At nearly six, the sun hadn't begun to set properly, so Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if Alfred stayed at the high school to grade papers or tutor one of his students. He probably thought he had time to kill since Arthur hadn't been expected to return home for another week.

There was only so much time that could be spent in the company of Arthur's parents. Frankly, he'd been ready to fly home after the first day.

Either way, it wouldn't hurt to check if Alfred was there or not. If he wasn't, then Arthur would have some time to think up an elaborate way to surprise his husband with his early arrival, though getting the drop on Alfred wasn't easy and never had been.

Arthur checked the study first, which was where Alfred did most of his grading. Open laptop, briefcase, and multiple stacks of papers, essays or otherwise, but no Alfred. If he wasn't downstairs, then there was only one place left to check on the second floor.

The door to their bedroom was open when Arthur walked down the hall, and he peeked inside, bending over to set Tori gently on the floor. She slunk into the room ahead of him, disappearing underneath the bed while Arthur crept forward carefully, being careful not to disturb the old floorboards.

Alfred appeared to be asleep, curled up on what was usually Arthur's side of the bed, his breathing long and even. As Arthur crept closer, what had at first looked like a small pillow laying in the curve of Alfred's back morphed into Clint, their Maine Coon kitten that Alfred had named after some character from a Marvel film that came out years ago.

Arthur kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the bed, ultimately waking Clint, who lifted his head and meowed slightly. Arthur reached out to stroke the black fur of the kitten's ruff briefly before leaning over Alfred's sleeping form.

The man supposed that his absence was the longest they'd been apart since they met. Gazing down at Alfred, drinking in every feature, as was Arthur's privilege, it didn't matter that he was thirty, or that he and Alfred had been together for seven years, married for two of those.

It didn't matter, because despite their ease with one another, Arthur's stomach still twisted with adolescent nervousness when he looked at his soul mate. He doubted that would ever change, no matter how much time went by.

"Alfred." He reached out, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder and shaking it gently.

Being the deep sleeper that he was, it usually took more to rouse Alfred, but after only a few seconds, his eyes fluttered open. Arthur observed as Alfred's features – half of them, anyway – furrowed in irritation. He'd never appreciated being dragged out of his sleep, but Arthur didn't know if he'd have been able to wait however many hours it took for Alfred to wake up.

A slight groan sounded before a single blue eye was peering up at Arthur, the other squeezed shut in an attempt to grasp at sleep for just a moment longer. The older man smiled, and while it took a moment, Alfred's slightly murderous expression softened.

"Hey." Arthur said softly, taking in Alfred's bedhead, the drool on his pillow and the corner of his mouth.

"Hi." Alfred murmured, still slightly disoriented as he lifted a hand to wipe the spit from his face. "Sorry I'm not more appealing. I thought you were coming back next week."

Arthur didn't know why Alfred was apologizing. Whatever the man beneath him believed, Arthur had come to adore his disheveled appearance in the morning. It was evening now, technically, but the effect was still the same.

"My family drives me up the wall." Arthur said as Alfred reached back to wedge a hand between his back and Clint's body. Gently, he nudged the cat away and rolled onto his back, pulling his right arm out from underneath his pillow to raise it above his head in a stretch, pressing the palm flat against the headboard. Arthur took the adjustment and swung one leg over Alfred's body, waiting for Alfred to settle before sitting back on his hips. Alfred grinned lazily in response. "Peter and I decided to leave early."

"Yeah? Shoulda left after the first day, if you ask me. Did Mummy ask about me?"

"Of course." Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Wanted to know if you'd packed up and stolen away in the night like she always said you would."

"I was tempted." Alfred's expression was completely serious, but then he yawned and started to giggle, his façade shattered. "What more does that woman need to be satisfied? I asked you to marry me, didn't I?"

"That you did." Arthur said, amused, because he knew that his mother's approval wasn't something Alfred gave a rat's arse about.

The two of them had never gotten along, especially when Alfred was seventeen and at the peak of his "No Fucks Given" faze that hadn't faded almost entirely until he was nineteen. Alfred had never said so outright, but Arthur could only assume that his soul mate hated his mum because of the things she'd told Arthur about almost having him aborted.

It was the main reason Alfred hadn't accompanied him to Lancaster, never mind that Alfred wasn't able to take that much vacation time with the school year coming to a close. Putting Alfred Jones-Kirkland and Lucie Kirkland in the same room together was quite literally begging for chaos to ensue, though in that situation, Arthur would be more worried about his mother than Alfred.

Arthur didn't see much of the emotionally scarred teenager he'd agonized over all those years ago, but Alfred had no qualms with dragging that boy to the surface on occasion, especially when it came to putting Arthur's mum in her place.

If he were honest, Arthur would admit that he'd shared a few of his mother's worries in the beginning, though he never considered giving up as she used to so often suggest. In the beginning stages of their relationship, Alfred was just too unpredictable. He accepted their affections for one another and had no problem acting on them, but having never had a stable, _emotional_ relationship before Arthur, Alfred scrambled for purchase in a world where he couldn't hide behind sarcasm and aggression as he'd done in the past.

There was an adjustment period – Arthur had known there would be even before Alfred showed up at his house that day – and once they were clear of that, everything seemed to fall into place. Of course, Arthur still had his worries where Alfred was concerned. He tended to act out when he was cornered, rather violently at that, and Arthur had been uncharacteristically passive from the moment of their first meeting until he and Alfred confessed their feelings.

It had taken a great deal of self-control to not strangle Alfred in the beginning. He'd been hell bent on making their interactions as difficult as possible, and even if Arthur had decided by then that he was going to make his best effort to attain Alfred's trust and affections, it was exceedingly difficult.

He'd grown up in a house of brutes ruled by two people who were as forgiving as a pit of tar. Arthur had never taken kindly to being pushed around, and while it wasn't enjoyable with Alfred, it somehow felt different. There was always a reason behind the madness, especially where Alfred was concerned.

Arthur had known from the start that something was wrong, so he'd opted to stand back as much as he could and let Alfred work things out on his own. Arthur probably would have made a different decision if he'd known that Alfred would take his bloody time, though it all worked out in the end.

But again, he'd had his doubts. Alfred himself had described his previous lifestyle as a day-by-day, promiscuous, whirlwind of suppressed feeling type of affair. He'd promised Arthur the random shags with various men would stop, and although Arthur had never doubted Alfred's conviction or loyalty, he'd never been certain of his soul mate's happiness, if Alfred had any lingering feelings of bitterness for ultimately falling into what he used to call humanity's greatest flaw.

That all changed, however, when Arthur was twenty-eight, Alfred just twenty-two. He'd been filing taxes at the kitchen table, completely submerged in his task, but he was all too aware of what was happening when Alfred sauntered into the room and placed a red velvet box down in front of him.

"You're not getting any younger." Was all Alfred had said, and when Arthur relayed it to his coworkers and family, saw their confused or aghast expressions, he reveled in the knowledge that they didn't understand Alfred the way he did.

Any lingering insecurities Arthur had evaporated after that, and it was somehow satisfying when he told his parents that Alfred was now their son-in-law and that they needed to be civil.

The look on his mum's face. Alfred had actually taken a picture and made it his phone's wallpaper, not to be changed for another seven months.

"Anyway." Arthur said, rising up onto his knees and leaning over Alfred's body, bracing his hands just below the pillows Alfred was resting on. Alfred's eyes darkened, though it had nothing to do with Arthur's shadow cast over him. "Enough about that. What have you been up to while I was gone?"

"Grading the last batch of tests for the year. Lecturing on the wonders and oddities of Poe's writings." Alfred murmured, eyes fluttering shut as Arthur leaned down to place an open-mouthed kiss to Alfred's throat, tasting his skin, feeling his steady pulse. "The usual."

"I still can't believe you decided to be a teacher." Arthur said casually, lifting his hand to pull the collar of Alfred's shirt aside. He licked a trail from Alfred's collarbone to the start of his jaw, mostly so Alfred could feel his tongue piercing. He would probably never understand the depth of his husband's fixation with it – with any of his piercings or tattoos, really – but he was hardly complaining.

"Jesus fuck." Alfred said into the air, and Arthur laughed. "But please. I'm the only one who can keep those little fuckers in check. None of them are nearly as difficult as I was when I was in high school. They don't know who they're dealing with."

"I'm sure your former teachers love having you around now that you're putting your skills to good use."

Alfred hummed slightly, cracking an eye open when Arthur moved his administrations from Alfred's neck to his right arm, still stretched above Alfred's head. Arthur really couldn't help doting on his husband like this, no matter the occasion. "They still tease me, but at least they stopped being scared of me. Apparently being picked up from school by my soul mate damaged my fearsome reputation even before I graduated."

Arthur actually didn't see how something as mundane as that could injure an entire high school career's worth of a fierce attitude, but he did remember picking Alfred up from school on occasion and feeling the majority of the courtyard's occupants staring at them. Alfred always clambered into the car quickly, usually with a scowl on his face, and Arthur never questioned it.

With all the shit Alfred apparently pulled while he was attending that school, Arthur was surprised the administration even considered him for the position in the English department. It had probably all boiled down to the fact that Alfred was passionate about literature and writing and – even newly graduated – was exceedingly good at what he did. Plus, Alfred was the firm hand needed to keep more of the unruly students in line, a teacher Alfred himself would have benefited from if there had been such a teacher while he was in school.

Alfred hadn't doubted he would get the job at all. He was so self-confident as an adult that it was hard to believe it was an acquired attribute, not ascribed.

"I slept a whole bunch." Alfred sighed. "The cats kept me company."

"Why is it that they don't sleep in the bed when I'm around?"

"Um, maybe because you snore like a fucking bear."

"I do not!"

"Sorry, honey, but you do so." Alfred said, feigning sympathy. He only used that particular pet name when he wanted to be patronizing. "Pretty sure the universe made me a deep sleeper so I wouldn't be as bothered by it. Don't tell me that Catarina didn't complain."

Arthur rolled his eyes, though he didn't stop kissing his way up Alfred's arm. His interactions with his childhood friend had diminished over the years as they both took their lives in different directions. Cat had moved back to Portugal shortly after Arthur and Alfred were married, and they corresponded via email regularly. Arthur still thought of her fondly, but whatever affections he'd had for her growing up paled in comparison to how he felt about Alfred.

"It's not _that_ bad." Arthur insisted stubbornly, acutely aware when Alfred slid his legs up to bend them at the knees, and he readjusted his lower half so Alfred could worm free of Arthur's imposing figure slightly, caging Arthur's hips with his legs. "Don't exaggerate."

"'Kay." Alfred said mirthfully, turning his head to kiss Arthur's cheek. "Anyway, I hung out with Elizabeta a few times at the bar, skyped with Kiku a bunch… oh, and I went out to dinner with Matt and Francis. You shoulda been there. We could've had a double date."

Alfred was joking. He had to be. Arthur frowned at the mention of Matthew's soul mate, Francis Bonnefoy, who hadn't been in their lives long but had still managed to get on Arthur's bad side. Matthew had taken an impromptu trip to Paris with a few of his friends from college just last year, and he brought more than cheap trinkets back with him.

Francis's English was atrociously poor – on purpose, Arthur suspected – and he refused to pick up on social cues. Arthur hadn't minded him all that much until the four of them went out for drinks at the bar where Elizabeta worked for Alfred's twenty-third birthday. At nearly midnight, Francis had been the most pissed of the bunch, and Arthur had found his drunken, French rambling amusing until the man mistook Alfred for Matthew and kissed Alfred far too deeply to be considered friendly.

Arthur had wanted to start a bar fight. It wouldn't have been the first time. Instead, he landed a solid punch to the Frenchman's nose and let the matter drop. Alfred may have been strangely immune to jealousy, but Arthur wasn't born with the same gift. Thankfully, Alfred had found the entire spectacle arousing – Arthur's furious defense of his claim to every part of Alfred's body, that is – and dragged Arthur from the establishment while Matthew nursed an injured and disoriented Francis.

Arthur had gotten a gratifying if not slightly uncomfortable round of car sex out of it, so he didn't regret a damn thing.

"I would have passed if I'd been here, as I shall for every invitation in the foreseeable future." Arthur said, pausing to stare at Alfred's wrist. The skin where his watch used to be had tanned and toughened up with time, but Arthur was still prone to nuzzling Alfred there. However, it still made his heart ache, looking at the jacked scar just below Alfred's palm, a souvenir from when Alfred had tried to cut the clock out of his skin when he was a freshman in high school.

He'd had to go to the hospital. They put him on suicide watch, though all Alfred wanted was for the watch to be removed, not to end his own life; but he'd lost a fair amount of blood. It always struck Arthur how close he'd come to losing Alfred if Matthew hadn't been home that day. Their future together had been precarious right from the start.

Arthur pressed his lips to the scar and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply against Alfred's skin.

Alfred's fingers flexed. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice hushed, so close to Arthur's right ear.

"Nothing." Arthur replied, entwining the fingers of his left hand with Alfred's right. Then he ducked down once more to take Alfred's lips in something that wasn't meant to arouse so much as comfort, probably himself more than Alfred.

The man beneath him took everything in stride, and Arthur felt his hand being squeezed before Alfred's free arm was twining itself about Arthur's neck, legs wrapped around his waist and locked together at the small of his back. Alfred took on all of Arthur's weight, sensing his urgency but not quite understanding it.

When Arthur pulled away, he said, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Alfred replied, though he was frowning. "Don't be weird. I'm still tired so I can't properly help you if you're sad."

Arthur smiled wolfishly, jutting his hips forward and enjoying Alfred's surprised moan, though he quickly cut himself off. "I'd say you're doing a wonderful job of helping me."

"Never leave my side again." Alfred breathed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "That stupid dildo Elizabeta bought me when you were too scared to fuck me doesn't do the job anymore."

"I was not scared." He really hadn't been. Arthur had been attracted to Alfred emotionally and physically, yes, but after thinking of only women in that light all his life, Arthur was a little dubious when it came to physical intimacy between him and his soul mate. Alfred hadn't pushed anything, and when Arthur finally worked up the nerve to go through with it – after Alfred had turned eighteen – he was astounded he'd held out for so long.

"Sure you weren't. But it's okay. My sexual prowess is intimidating, even back then." Alfred was teasing him, and Arthur lay still as Alfred extracted his hand from Arthur's own only to wrap both arms around Arthur's neck, burying his face against the skin there. "Fuck your mom. Next time, I'm coming with you. I missed you, Artie. _So_ much."

His voice was quiet and muffled, but Arthur heard every word as clearly as if they'd been shouted in his ear. "If there even is a next time." Arthur replied, breathing in Alfred's scent. "I missed you, too. It was so odd waking up without someone clinging to me or stealing the bedding in the night."

"That's what I'm here for. Clingy, warmth hogging, A plus husband Alfred F. Jones-Kirkland. Ugh, God, my mom was right. I should've just changed my last name completely or left it alone. It's even more of a mouthful with the Kirkland part."

"I told you that you didn't have to take my name, Alfred, or use a hyphen. Shouldn't I have taken yours, since _you_ proposed to _me_?"

"That's terribly traditional of you." Alfred said disdainfully, and Arthur chuckled. "And I wouldn't call what I did proposing, exactly. It was like a promise crudely wrapped in an insult and tied off with nonchalance. You let me make love to you on the table afterward though, so that was nice."

"You were so nervous." Arthur recalled. Alfred's hands had shook horribly even after Arthur said yes, a lingering effect from his anxiety, and Arthur had clung to him, wanted to communicate with no misunderstanding that his answer would always be in the affirmative, no matter the question. Unless, of course, a negative response was required. "You deserved a reward for even going through with it, no matter how you phrased it."

Alfred nodded slightly against Arthur's shoulder, and his limbs tightened for a moment before he let go completely, falling back onto the bed. "Oh, yeah, Gilbert and I were gonna go drinking tonight. Wanna come? Or do you have jet lag?"

"I'll get over it." Arthur said, running his piercing over the roof of his mouth thoughtfully. "Who's the designated driver?"

Alfred shrugged. "Who bottomed last time?"

Arthur sighed, thinking back to the night before he'd left for Lancaster, Alfred's cries, his warmth… "You did."

With a sly grin, Alfred stretched his arms above his head, stretching languidly. "Ah, alcohol. My one true love. You know, I love our married couple system. The give and take is stupendous."

"You say that now, but wait until it's your turn to do the laundry or give Tori a bath."

"I'm feeling generous, though." Alfred continued as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "Since you obviously had a rough three weeks, I'll give up my turn to get stupidly drunk and cart your ass back here at the end of tonight. Sound good?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"

"Nothing! Can't I be nice?" Alfred inquired, perhaps a little too innocently.

"You can be anything you want so long as no bodily harm comes to me or anybody else."

Alfred pursed his lips, dialing up the pout to dangerous levels. "Mean. Why do I always have to have a motive, I mean goddamn."

"Because there usually is one." Arthur pointed out before climbing off of Alfred completely. "I'll be right back. I have to get my bags from the car."

"Do you want me to help?"

"No, you stay right there." Arthur said, already in the process of pulling on his shoes. Clint dove out from underneath the bed to bat at his laces, and Arthur gently shooed him away. "If you're to be driving home tonight, I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel. So, get some sleep."

"But – " Alfred encouraged, sensing that there was more.

Arthur smirked. "But first, I'm going to give you three weeks worth of shagging."

"I love it when you talk British to me." Alfred said, and the look he gave Arthur was so lewd and sultry that Arthur almost said fuck the luggage and descended on his husband right then and there. "Do hurry back. I refuse to get that dildo out of the trashcan."

"Oh, but the _fun_ we could have, Alfred!"

"None of that fun is going up my ass unless it's physically attached to you. Now move it!"

As far as they'd come together, there were just some things that would never change; and Arthur was completely okay with that.

* * *

It was already dark when they reached the bar, and Arthur was attacked the moment he stepped foot inside.

"Arthur!" Gilbert was loud on principle, even more so when he'd been drinking. All eyes in the bar were on them at the man's obnoxiously pitched voice, warbled with alcohol, but all Arthur could do was smile as his best friend of nearly ten years dumped himself into Arthur's arms. "Oh, man, I haven't seen you since yesterday!"

"Been a bit longer than that, Beilschmidt." Elizabeta was behind the bar, washing a glass and watching the two of them with amusement. She had a new tattoo on her left arm, a simple rose and thorn pattern. It was definitely Gilbert's handiwork. "Welcome back, Shadow. Got Gil here nice and loose for ya."

"That's disgusting, woman." Gilbert said while Arthur rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. Elizabeta had taken to calling him "Shadow" while she and Alfred were in college, for wherever Alfred was, Arthur wasn't far behind. "I'm definitely a top, aren't I, Arthur?"

"I don't think that's what she's talking about." Arthur replied, patting his friend's arm before pushing him away slightly, enough to look at his face. "But hello to you, too."

"How was the homeland?"

"Let's just say the trip was unnecessary."

"Bummer." Gilbert frowned slightly, grasping Arthur's face between two sweaty palms. His vermillion irises were unusually intense. "Who needs those limey bastards? You've got an awesome German, a feisty Hungarian, and an irate American right here at home."

"I'm not _irate_." A gust of wind hit Arthur from behind as Alfred walked into the bar, most likely having found a suitable parking spot. "I'm _irritable_. Do your research. And get your paws off my husband."

"Case in point." Gilbert announced, lifting a finger. "And since when are you married?"

"Since I put that bad boy on his finger." Alfred said blandly, and Arthur lifted his left hand in demonstration, amused by the entire spectacle. Alfred hadn't quite managed to determine when Gilbert was actually pissed off his arse or just playing it up a little for hilarity. The man's eyes were too clear, his speech not all that slurred. Arthur wasn't fooled. It was far too early in the evening for that level of drunkenness. "You were one of our witnesses, dumb ass."

"Oh, yeah. How come you guys didn't have a real wedding, again?"

Alfred brushed past them, and Arthur watched him go keenly. His soul mate was softer when they were alone together and was less than complacent in public, but something felt off about him. Arthur couldn't put his finger on it.

"Alfred didn't think it was worth the money." Arthur said, shrugging. "But he also dislikes being the center of attention. It was just easier."

Arthur left Gilbert then, following after Alfred, determined to find out what was bothering him, if anything. His blue-eyed soul mate was sitting on a stool at the bar, talking with Elizabeta. Even if they'd been talking in louder tones, Arthur doubted he would've been able to hear them. The establishment wasn't as crowded as it would be a few hours from now, but the music was playing at a decent volume over the speakers, and it appeared that there was a game going on. Gilbert had joined the crowd of onlookers, was booing at every bad call.

"I can't make that decision for you, Alfie." Arthur caught that much from Elizabeta, and his interest was peaked. "Why don't we ask Shadow here!"

"Ask me what?" Arthur inquired, sitting down in the stool beside Alfred's, whose shoulders were unnaturally stiff.

"Your boy here is thinking about getting a tattoo." Elizabeta confessed.

"You're afraid of needles." Arthur said slowly, throwing Alfred a curious look.

The younger man shrugged, though he looked more relaxed now. Interesting. "I'm sure it'd be fine. I've wanted one since I was a kid though. Can't be a bitch about it forever. I just don't know what design to go with. Something that doesn't correspond with yours, at least."

"What tattoos does Arthur have?"

"Well, there's the six-string above his hip bone, that weird incantation thingy in Dutch on his arm – "

"I was drunk, don't ask." Arthur cut in before Elizabeta could make some comment. "I believe it was supposed to be a charm for good luck."

" – and only I get to know where the last one is." Alfred finished, somewhat smugly, and Elizabeta's thin eyebrows rose with her shock.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That pretty much gives away where it's located, you idiot. And anyway, I have a fourth. I had it done while I was in Lancaster."

Alfred glanced at him, slightly surprised. "You didn't tell me that."

"I'll show it to you later." Arthur promised, mostly because he wasn't certain what Alfred's reaction would be and didn't want to find out in a public place.

"Penis tattoos must hurt." Elizabeta said sympathetically, and Arthur almost choked. "What possessed you?"

"Don't ask about his dick tattoo!" Alfred said indignantly, and one of the other baristas walking behind Elizabeta gave him an odd look. "That is between me and my mate."

"Don't say mate." Arthur chided, horribly embarrassed and thankful that the lightning above them was terrible. "It sounds so animalistic."

Alfred grinned up at Elizabeta, who smirked in return. "Isn't it, though?" He said, turning to look at Arthur. "Animalistic, I mean. The term is soul _mates_ for a reason. It's basic. Raw."

Arthur frowned. "I don't – "

"Primal." Elizabeta added, setting a drink down in front of Arthur that he hadn't asked for. "It's instinct, dude. Doesn't get more animal than that."

"Oh, how would you know?" Arthur huffed. "You haven't even met your soul mate."

Elizabeta grinned, stretching her arm out over the counter top. Arthur glanced down and noted that she had a little less than six hours left on her watch. "Maybe not, Shadow, but I'm about to find out."

"Don't think about it." Alfred laughed, head propped up in his hand as he observed them. The warmth in his eyes was so genuine that Arthur had a hard time believing that he'd thought something was wrong with his husband; but Alfred's right leg was bouncing erratically against the bars on the bottom of the stool. He was nervous. "Just drink up, babe. Get stupidly blissed. I'll be here to keep you from getting yourself killed, I promise."

Arthur would've liked to argue, but the prospect of forgetting about the long weeks spent with his parents – if even for a few hours – was too good to pass up.

The last thing Arthur remembered with complete clarity was Gilbert throwing a fit that Arthur had been inked by someone else, someone who didn't know how to "properly handle Kirkland's baby skin." After that, the evening passed in flashes.

Everything was mostly sensory input, college students laughing, the burn of Arthur's drink slipping down his throat; and then there was the smell of rubber, the creak of one of the leather couches, a body planting itself firmly in Arthur's lap.

"You're lucky we aren't at home." Alfred looked positively predatory. Arthur wasn't sure what had transpired between them to make his husband like that, but somehow he wasn't surprised. It almost always happened, no matter whose turn it was to drive home at the end of the night. "If this was our couch, I'd plow you into it."

"How does that make me lucky, exactly?" Arthur asked, tipping his head back against the couch. Clarity, though still out of his reach, was slowly returning. How long had they been out? "Sounds like a missed opportunity."

"Lizzie said no more indecent exposure." Alfred grumbled, glancing over his shoulder quickly. "How am I supposed to resist when you're this fuckable? And I'm completely sober, so I can enjoy it thoroughly."

"So, I'm more fuckable when I'm pissed than not?"

Alfred smirked, bending over to place his mouth directly next to Arthur's ear. "I wouldn't say that." Arthur suppressed a shiver as two very warm hands, warm enough to be felt through the fabric of his shirt, slid up his chest. "You're just in a more… taking mood. Your reactions are less diffident, at least."

"That implies that I lack self-confidence."

"Oh, don't worry." Alfred said, pulling away and grinning wolfishly. One of his hands left Arthur's chest, and the older man mourned its loss for but a second before it brushed against a part of Arthur's body that was, quite frankly, getting ahead of itself. "You have plenty of self-confidence."

Arthur exhaled shakily, squirming a bit as Alfred pressed the back of his hand more firmly against the growing bulge in Arthur's trousers. "Don't."

"How come?" Alfred asked, tilting his head, though his hand vanished. "No one can tell what I'm doing. I mean, I'm sure they can guess, but they can't _see._ "

"Better to stop while we're behind."

Alfred snorted. "I don't think that's how the saying goes, honey." He then sighed. "But okay. I'll wait until we get home. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout."

"Well, if you wanna get technical about it, no." Alfred readjusted himself on Arthur's lap, scooting the slightest bit closer, his knees now touching the couch cushions on either side of Arthur. "Hey, I have an idea. How 'bout you show me your new tat? Maybe I'll get some inspiration for mine."

"I thought you didn't want to match?" Arthur drawled, though he reached over to pull up the sleeve on his right arm.

Alfred rolled his eyes before glancing down at Arthur's arm, specifically his wrist. Arthur watched as the younger man's eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened in shock. "It's my soul mate watch." Arthur explained, as if Alfred couldn't see that for himself. "Or a sketch of it. I'll have to have Gilbert fill in the coloring later. But anyway. Instead of the numbers I was originally born with, I used – "

"One, two, two, seven." Alfred breathed, reaching out to take Arthur's hand. He had to twist in Arthur's lap to see the tattoo properly, which did absolutely nothing but direct Arthur's attention back to his own erection. "Oh, my God."

Arthur shook his head, giggling slightly at the absurdity. Why was Alfred so shocked? "They aren't individual numbers, Alfred. It's a time. Twelve twenty-seven. Don't you remember? That's when we met."

"Twelve twenty-seven… that day at your job? The time our watches went off?"

"Well, duh. It happened in the afternoon. I'll never forget it."

"Arthur, I – " Alfred hesitated, and his eyes were so very blue as he raised them to meet Arthur's. "You used to scribble these numbers on your clipboard during our sessions. Why?"

Arthur frowned. Seven years was a long time, and even if he wasn't completely coherent, he still knew exactly what Alfred was talking about. "You were the biggest prat I'd ever met. Dealing with you everyday used to drain the life out of me. I had to give myself courage somehow. I wrote the time we met on my papers so I could remember why I was putting up with you whenever you were being difficult."

Alfred choked out a laugh heavy with disbelief. "We've been together for seven years and I'm just now hearing about this because… ?"

"Well, you never asked."

"I totally forgot to." Alfred murmured, swiping his thumb over the tattoo. "Why did you get this?"

That particular reasoning was a little difficult to drag to the surface. "You have a scar on your wrist because of your watch. I think I wanted a mark of my own, one that wasn't so bloody depressing."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed, and he sat back on Arthur's thighs, turning Arthur's arm so his palm was anterior. It took Arthur a few moments, but when he noticed that Alfred's eyes were starting to shine dangerously, he suddenly remembered why he'd wanted to show his husband his new tattoo in the safety of their home.

"Shit." Arthur said smartly.

"No, I just – " Alfred shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry if I make you choose between your family and me. I don't mean to."

Arthur wasn't sure why that was relevant. He remembered that Alfred was acting a little odd when they arrived, how he'd talked to Elizabeta with an urgency and sadness that didn't belong in a discussion about tattoos. Maybe this was what had been worrying Alfred so much.

"Don't be stupid." Arthur said tonelessly. "I'd always choose you. You, at least, don't want me gone."

"Never!" Alfred exclaimed, though his wince was immediate. "Well, not anymore. I just hate that Peter's the only one who comes around. And then I wouldn't go to Lancaster with you even though I _know_ you hate spending time with your parents and your older brothers by yourself. You go the extra mile for me, and I can't even meet you halfway."

"I go the extra mile because it's who I am. I don't care for many people, so I have a lot of energy to spare for those who I do hold affection for." Arthur was starting to get a headache. Sobriety was a bloody nuisance, and it didn't normally come about this quickly. He must not have drunk enough. "And you and my mother can't make eye-contact without fighting. Why would I have asked you to come?"

"Because I'm your husband and I should've been there to support you!"

Arthur shushed Alfred gently, taking his arm back and placing both of his hands on the younger man's hips. "You're getting worked up over nothing. I don't blame you, if that's what you think. I'd rather you were safe and happy in our bed with the cats than across the ocean with me and my toxic relatives."

"I want to be with you all the time though." Alfred grumbled, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of crimson. "It's stupid."

"Believe me, it's not."

Alfred groaned, leaning over to rest his forehead against Arthur's. "You're so good. What did I do to deserve a soul mate like you?"

"In a past life, you were most likely the world's greatest hero. Saved a lot of puppies and helped old women cross the street."

Alfred's eyes were closed, a small smile on his face, and Arthur couldn't resist kissing the tip of his nose briefly. "Hm. I love you."

"You're my primal instinct." Arthur replied, and when Alfred's eyes opened, it felt like that first afternoon all over again, seeing one another for the first time and knowing exactly who they were, even before the watches told them.

Everything suddenly grew quiet, and Arthur became aware of beeps sounding milliseconds before Alfred jerked away from him and twisted, glancing toward the other side of the room.

Elizabeta was at her post as she'd been all night, and her eyes were wide as she stared across the counter at the person in front of her. Arthur couldn't see the man's face, but he determined the man was brunet and dressed entirely too properly for the drinking scene, slacks and sweater vest and all.

The two of them stared at one another for a few more moments before Elizabeta broke the silence. "You're _gorgeous_!" She squealed before hefting herself up onto the counter and crawling over it as gracefully as she could, depositing herself into her soul mate's arms, who caught her as well as he could.

The room erupted in applause, and Arthur couldn't help but smile as he watched them, remembering his own experience when meeting his soul mate for the first time.

He glanced up at Alfred on reflex only to find that his husband was watching the pair, a large smile on his face. At one point, Alfred would have been disgusted, scornful, but Arthur could feel his joy and relief, for his friend had found her soul mate at long last.

It was a shame that Kiku couldn't have been present. As far as Arthur knew, the man was still living in Japan, pursuing a career in animation and game design. His absence was lasting longer than any of them had anticipated, but Arthur could tell he wasn't far from Alfred's or Elizabeta's thoughts.

"We choose the strangest ways to greet our soul mates." Alfred mused, turning to give Arthur a glance filled with mirth. "But I think I win." He then returned to watching Elizabeta, who was now safely on the ground. "Hey, you! Fuck with my friend, and I'll fuck with your face!"

"Alfred Foster Jones-Kirkland!" Elizabeta cried, expression aghast. Her soul mate glanced in Alfred and Arthur's direction, violet eyes behind smart glasses wide with shock. "Don't be so mean! We just met, for God's sake!"

"I'm not being _mean,_ I'm being upfront. He doesn't get to meet your dad, but he sure as hell gets to meet me! And Kiku, whenever he comes home."

Arthur watched the entire exchange with the calm attitude of someone who had been through this multiple times before. That poor man had no idea what he was in for, the patchwork family he'd been suddenly thrust into.

When his alarmed eyes met Arthur's, Arthur shrugged his shoulders and offered the man his most sympathetic smile. There was no guidebook when it came to soul mates. He knew that firsthand. He remembered how it felt to be in that position, blown away and shell-shocked. Arthur hadn't known what to do, which path to take, and at that point in his life, Alfred had been more than Arthur was prepared to handle.

It would be exhausting and frustrating, maybe even hopeless at times, especially if soul mates were polar opposites at first glance, as Elizabeta and her soul mate seemed to be; but Arthur also knew from experience that it got so much better. Their relationship would be effortless, if they just put in the work.

That was perhaps one of the greatest things Alfred had taught Arthur, aside from the fact that it was virtually impossible to walk away from true love, of course.


End file.
